TEA 

LOYA 


HENRT-KITCnELLV. 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

PRESENTED  BY 

Richard  G.  Walser 


0B13 
W379t 


K  ^ 


orn  /3//J 


\,KJl.Xj        1^  •  ^  ■ 


WEBSTER,  Henry  Kitciiell,  author;  b.  at 

Evanston,  111.,  Sept.  7.  1S75;  s.  Towner  Keeney 
.,  and  Emma  J.  (Kitchell)  W.;  ^rad.  Hamilton 
;  Coll.,  1897,  Ph.M.;  instr.  rhetoric,  Union  Col  ., 
Schenectady.  N.Y.,  1897-8;  m.  Mary  Ward  Orth. 
of  Evanston,  111.,  Sept.  7,  1901.  Au^/jor;  The 
Short  Line  War  (with  Samuel  Merwin),  1S99; 
The  Banker  and  the  Bear;  The  Story  of  a 
Corner  in  Land.  1900;  Calmmet  '"K"  (with  Sam- 
uel Alerwin),  1901;  Roser  Drake,  Captain  of 
Industry.  1903;  The  Duke  of  Cameron  Ayenue, 
1901-  Traitor  and  Loyalist,  1904:  Comrade  John 
(with  Samuel  :\Ierwin),  1907;  The  WMspering 
Man.  1908;  A  King  in  Khaki,  1909;  The  Sky 
Man,  1910:  The  Girl  in  the  Other  Seat.  1911; 
June  Madness  (play),  prod..  New  York,  Sept., 
1912;  The  Ghost  Girl.  1913:  The  Butterfly,^  1914. 
'Cluljs:  LTniyersitv  (Evanston,  111.).  Cliff  Dwell- 
ers (Chicago),  Players  (New  York).  Address: 
1411  Maple  Av.,  Evanston.  111. 


n 


MACMILLAN'S   STANDARD    LIBRARY 


TEAITOE   AND  LOYALIST 


1  i/ttaB  3 


"  '  I'm  a  traitor,'  he  said." 


{See  p.  3lk.) 


TRAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 


OR 


THE  MAN  WHO  FOUND  HIS  COUNTET 


BY 


HENRY   KITCHELL   WEBSTER 

▲UTHOS  OF  "  THE  BANKER  AND  THE  BEAB," 
"  ROGER  DRAKE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW   YORK 

GROSSET   &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPTBISHT,   1904, 

Bt  the  macmillan  company. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  September,  1904.      Reprinted 
October,  November,  1904 ;  September,  1912. 


Norfajool)  ilress 

J.  S.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co, 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


PART   I 

THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS 


TRAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 


CHAPTER   I 

On  one  of  the  early  days  of  March  in  the  year 
1861,  the  honest  Dutch  ship  Vredey  a  big-nosed, 
wide-bottomed,  stump-masted  craft,  was  pound- 
ing along  in  a  southwesterly  direction  off  Hat- 
teras.  In  the  judgment  of  her  master  the 
northeaster  which  came  roaring  over  the  taffrail 
was  entitled  to  be  called  a  gale,  so  the  Vrede 
was  doing  the  best  she  could  with  double  reefs 
in  her  topsails.  She  was  right  in  the  Gulf 
Stream,  and  the  northeast  wind,  squarely  against 
the  set  of  that  mighty  current,  piled  up  an  ir- 
regular and  curiously  uncomfortable  sea,  so  that 
the  Vrede,  high  and  dry  and  steady  as  she  was 
in  most  winds  and  weathers,  fairly  wallowed  in 
it.  Her  master,  much  too  big  a  man  to  preserve 
even  the  appearance  of  dignity  on  deck  w^hile 
his  ship  indulged  in  such  unwonted  antics,  was 
about  to  retire  to  his  cabin  and  console  himself 
with  a  finger  or  two  of  raw  gin,  when  the  look- 
^  out  sighted  a  sail  off  the  port  quarter ;  so  he 
fv       paused  to  take  a  good  look  at  her. 


*9 


4  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

It  was  not  a  stare  of  incredulity  or  amaze- 
ment, for  the  sight  he  saw  liad  been  familiar 
on  all  the  seas  of  the  world  since  he  had  fol- 
lowed the  sea,  but  no  familiarity  could  lessen 
the  wonder.  The  great  ship  was  bearing  as  the 
Yrede  bore,  but  w^as  overhauling  her  as  though 
the  honest  Dutch  craft  had  been  riding  at  an- 
chor ;  in  less  than  an  hour  she  would  be  right 
abeam,  and  the  master  clung  to  the  rail  and 
gazed  at  her,  nodding  his  head  in  grave 
recognition  while  she  came  foaming  along. 

In  the  opinion  of  her  master  the  northeaster 
was  but  a  breeze,  and  so  above  the  topsails  her 
topgallant  sails  were  spread  in  sturdy  defiance. 
Under  this  huge  press  of  canvas  she  fled  before 
the  wind,  but  mocked  its  power  as  she  fled, 
her  long  fine  bows  slicing,  driving  through  the 
seas  which  came  thundering  over  her  forecastle 
as  if  their  deadly  earnest  had  been  but  child's 
play. 

The  master  of  the  Yrede  watched  her  as  she 
came  abreast  of  him  and  as  she  went  tearing  by, 
leaving  a  good  twelve  knots  an  hour  behind  her, 
and  until  she  was  hull  down  ahead  his  gaze  did 
not  cease  to  follow  her,  nor  his  head  to  nod 
from  time  to  time,  half  disapproving,  but  half 
in  admiration.  When  he  went  down  to  his 
cabin,  he  drank  his  gin  to  the  Yankee  skipper 
who  walked    her  quarter-deck.      He  knew  her 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  5 

house-flag,  a  big  white  C  on  a  red  field,  but  it 
had  not  needed  that,  nor  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
broken  out  from  her  monkeygaff  and  dipped  in 
gracious  answer  to  the  Vrede's  salute,  to  tell  him 
what  land  she  called  Home. 

Indeed,  during  the  twoscore  years  preceding 
the  Civil  War,  no  hail,  nor  signal,  nor  even  a 
seaman's  eye,  was  needed  to  recognize  a  Yankee 
clipper.  Wherever  you  met  one  of  them,  home- 
ward bound  from  the  Indies  loaded  with  silks 
and  spices,  racing  against  time  along  the  fifteen 
thousand  miles'  course  from  New  York  to  San 
Francisco  around  the  Horn,  or  fighting  her  way 
to  windward  in  the  teeth  of  a  North  Atlantic 
gale,  fair  weather  or  foul,  you  might  always 
know  the  Yankee  clipper.  The  perfection  of 
her  model,  daringly  fine  but  stanch  against  all 
but  the  utmost  that  the  fury  of  wind  and  wave 
can  do,  the  great  clouds  of  canvas  she  carried,  the 
matchless  seamanship  of  her  officers,  —  all  helped 
tell  the  story  of  her  nativity. 

Captain  Martin  Carver  was  taking  his  ship, 
the  Southern  Cross,  —  she  was  the  oldest  ship  of 
the  famous  White  C  Line,  and  still  the  best, 
according  to  her  crew,  —  in  ballast,  to  Wilming- 
ton, North  Carolina,  there  to  ship  a  cargo  of 
cotton,  and  thence  to  sail  with  it  to  Liverpool. 
Ordinarily,  he  would  have  been  sent  to  Charles- 
ton to  get  his  cotton,  but  there  was  a  little  tern- 


6  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

porary  disturbance  in  the  natural  course  of  things 
at  Charleston  ;  that,  at  least,  was  the  view  the 
owner  of  the  White  C  Line  took  of  it.  South 
Carolina  had  seceded  from  the  Union ;  a  Major 
Anderson,  with  a  handful  of  soldiers,  was  shut 
up  in  Fort  Sumter,  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
harbor,  and  it  was  possible  that  they  might 
make  trouble  before  they  turned  it  over  to  the 
state  authorities  who  demanded  possession.  At 
Wilmington,  where  one  could  get  a  cargo  of 
cotton  about  as  easily,  there  was  no  such  doubt 
or  irregularity.  It  was  true  that  a  month  before, 
in  a  moment  of  excitement,  the  citizens  had 
gone  down  the  river  and  seized  Fort  Caswell, 
but  at  a  polite  request  from  the  Secretary  of 
War  in  Washington  they  had  given  it  back 
again,  and  now  all  was  peace.  So  the  Southern 
Cross  had  cleared  from  New  York  for  the  mouth 
of  the  Cape  Fear  River. 

It  was  Martin  Carver's  first  voyage  in  com- 
mand. He  was  only  twenty-four  years  old,  and 
he  was  the  son  of  old  John  Milton  Carver,  who 
owned  the  Southern  Cross  and  all  her  sisters,  and 
yet  no  one  on  board,  before  the  mast  or  berthed  in 
the  steerage,  ever  called  him  an  "  owner's  man." 
For,  as  his  two  elder  brothers  had  done,  Martin 
had  come  "  over  the  bows."  He  had  bunked 
in  the  reeking  forecastle ;  he  had  undergone  all 
the  common  sailor's  routine  with  tar  bucket  and 


THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS  7 

holy  stone,  all  his  peril  aloft  in  the  gale ;  he  had 
known  cold  and  exhaustion ;  he  had  been  hazed  by 
angry  officers,  who  had  vowed  to  "  work  him  up"  ; 
he  had  rotted  with  scurvy.  The  product  of  all  this 
experience  was  the  knowledge  of  many  things,  — 
things  his  father  and  his  grandfather  had  known, 
things  that  can  be  learned  in  only  one  way. 
The  greatest  of  them,  perhaps,  was  obedience, 
unquestioning,  instant,  an  obedience  in  those  days 
nowhere  else  so  thoroughly  taught  or  so  fiercely 
insisted  upon  as  in  the  American  merchant 
marine.  He  learned  to  do  what  was  unnecessary, 
what  was  foolish,  what  was  impossible,  because 
it  was  ordered. 

So  for  a  few  years,  and  then  he  was  promoted 
to  be  second  mate,  a  dog's  berth  even  in  the  best- 
ordered  ships,  for  one  is  neither  officer  nor  of 
the  crew  and  is  treated  with  suspicion  by  both. 
One  has  responsibility  but  no  privileges,  authority 
but  none  of  the  sanctions  of  authority  save  what 
may  reside  in  a  steady  eye  and  a  hard  hand. 
Then  he  sailed  on  a  two  years'  cruise  around  the 
world  as  first  mate  —  the  mate  —  of  the  Centaur, 
under  old  Captain  Dearborn.  When  he  came 
back  the  Southern  Cross  was  waiting  for  a  com- 
mander, and,  after  a  scanty  week  of  shore  leave, 
he  was  given  his  ship  and  his  sailing  orders  and 
was  off  again  on  what  was  to  be  a  rather  event- 
ful voyage. 


8  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

His  cargo  of  cotton  was  waiting  for  him  when 
he  readied  Wilmington.  He  got  it  on  board 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  and  soon  they 
were  sailing  out  of  New  Inlet  again,  bound  this 
time  for  Liverpool.  He  had  plenty  of  wind  all 
the  way  and  a  good  proportion  of  it  fair,  and 
after  an  unusually  quick  passage,  ev^en  for  the 
Southern  Cross,  he  anchored  in  the  Mersey  on  the 
tenth  of  April. 

A  small  gig  was  alongside  before  the  ship  was 
fairly  at  her  moorings,  and  Martin,  glancing 
down  into  it,  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise 
on  seeing  a  well-known  figure  catch  at  the  ladder 
and  come  scrambling  nimbly  over  the  side.  He 
was  a  little  man  with  a  red  face  and  grayish, 
sandy,  mutton-chop  w^hiskers.  It  w^as  four  years 
since  Martin  had  seen  him,  but  he  had  not 
changed  a  hair  in  the  interval. 

Between  Martin's  father,  John  Carver,  and  Mr. 
Patrick  Odell  there  had  existed  a  warm  personal 
regard  and  a  still  closer  business  connection  for 
nearly  twenty  years.  They  were  not  formally 
partners,  of  course,  but  in  a  good  many  enter- 
prises they  pooled  the  risks  and  shared  the 
profits.  In  England  Mr.  Odell  acted  as  Mr. 
Carver's  agent,  just  as  in  New  York  Mr.  Carver 
acted  for  him.  Both  had  profited  largely  by  the 
arrangement.  London  was  still  two  weeks  away 
from  New  York,  and  one  could  not  be  in  both 


THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS  9 

places  at  the  same  time,  as  he  can  now.  Mr. 
Carver  and  Mr.  Odell  were  like  enough  to  get  on 
well  together.  Both  were  conservative,  but 
neither  was  afraid  to  take  a  chance ;  both  w^ere 
matter-of-fact,  but  with  a  touch  of  the  speculator's 
imagination  added. 

Odell  shook  hands  with  him,  and  then,  step- 
ping back  and  using  an  old  friend's  privilege, 
he  looked  him  over,  thoughtfully  and  at  first 
silently.  "  When  I  heard  of  your  promotion. 
Captain,  I  was  inclined  to  think  your  father  had 
put  you  on  the  quarter-deck  a  bit  too  young, 
but  I'm  thinking  now  he  was  right  about  it." 

Martin  had  grown  even  beyond  the  great 
height  which  was  to  be  expected  of  his  father's 
son.  He  was  nearly  four  inches  more  than  six 
feet  tall,  and  his  leanness  and  his  pronounced 
stoop  made  him  look  even  taller.  His  hair, 
which  had  once  been  blue-black,  had  already 
a  sprinkling  of  gray  in  it,  and  he  wore  a  close- 
cropped  beard.  A  thousand  fogs  and  tempests 
had  engraved  a  network  of  little  wrinkles  all 
about  his  eyes.  No,  he  did  not  look  too  young 
to  be  captain  of  the  Southern  Cross. 

"  I  thought  we  should  get  in  before  you  were 
looking  for  us,"  said  Martin.  "  We've  made  a 
very  good  run  of  it,  even  for  the  old  Cross.^^ 

"  I  know  the  old  ship,"  Odell  answered.  "  I 
congratulate  you,  my  boy,  on  commanding  her. 


10  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

And,  by  George,  I  congratulate  her,  too.  It 
must  be  a  good  many  years  since  she's  carried 
a  Carver  on  her  quarter-deck." 

"  She's  a  member  of  the  family,"  said  Martin. 
"  Father  has  taken  her  round  the  Horn  five  times 
himself." 

"  I've  a  letter  here  from  your  father,"  said 
Odell.  "  I  think  it  wants  a  little  talking  over 
between  us.  I  was  anxious  that  you  should 
make  a  quick  run.  I  suppose  that's  why  I  was 
expecting  you  so  soon." 

Martin  glanced  at  him,  with  a  little  apprehen- 
sion. "  Oh,  I've  no  bad  news  for  you,"  he 
went  on  reassuringly.  "  It's  just  a  question  of 
expediency.     May  I  go  down  to  your  cabin  ? " 

"  I'll  follow  you  in  a  moment,"  said  the  cap- 
tain.    "  You  know  the  way,  don't  you  ?  " 

John  Carver's  letter  raised  a  really  important 
question,  and  Mr.  Odell  might  have  used  this 
moment  of  solitude  to  readjust  what  he  had  to 
say.  He  had  expected  to  find  the  lad  of  four  years 
back ;  to  the  bearded,  grizzled  man  he  had  found 
instead  the  errand  must  be  presented  somewhat 
differently.  But  he  forgot  his  errand  in  thinking 
of  the  man  himself. 

He  found  himself  in  some  perplexity  over 
Martin  Carver.  But  Martin  had  puzzled  his 
friends  before,  and  he  nearly  always  aroused  the 
curiosity  of  strangers.     His  extraordinary  height 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  11 

and  a  certain  ungainly  grace  about  his  motions 
had  something  to  do  with  this,  and  the  color  of 
his  eyes  still  more,  for  they  were  a  light,  cool 
gray,  and  with  his  sunburned  skin  and  his  black 
brows  they  contrasted  oddly. 

"  His  father  is  all  there,"  mused  Mr.  Odell, 
"but  there's  something  else.  And  I  can't  be 
perfectly  sure  whether  it  will  help  or  hinder." 
He  could  not  even  guess,  of  course,  how  close 
home  that  question  was  to  come  to  him  in  the 
next  year,  how  much  it  was  to  affect  his  for- 
tunes, but  it  was  sufficiently  absorbing  without 
such  prevision. 

When  Martin  came  down  into  the  cabin,  his 
father's  letter  was  lying  on  the  table.  "  If  you'll 
read  it  first,"  said  Mr.  Odell,  indicating  it,  "  we 
can  discuss  the  question  to  better  advantage." 

Martin  read  it  rapidly  through,  then  turned 
back  to  discover  if  he  had  missed  anything.  "  I 
don't  see  what  there  is  to  discuss,"  he  said. 
"Isn't  it  just  like  all  his  letters  of  this 
sort  ?  " 

Odell  nodded. 

"  It  just  says  that  I'm  to  take  on  a  cargo  and 
go  back  to  Wilmington." 

"  To  Wilmington,"  said  Odell,  with  emphasis, 
"  unless  we  have  some  strong  reason  for  acting 
differently."  ^"\ 

"  Well,  why  not  to  Wilmington  ?  " 


12  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

"  That's  a  question,  Captain,  that  you  should 
be  able  to  answer  better  than  I." 

"  I  haven't  the  bearings  of  this  business,"  said 
Martin.     "  You'll  have  to  explain,  I  guess." 

"  This  is  the  way  it  lies.  It  will  take  you 
three  weeks  at  least  to  sail  from  here  to  Wil- 
mington. The  latest  news  you  can  have  from 
there  when  you  start  w^ill  be  two  weeks  old. 
And  five  weeks,  Captain  Carver,  is  a  long  time, 
time  enough  for  a  great  deal  to  happen.  I  am 
afraid  that  with  the  flag  you  fly  at  the  peak  you 
will  have  short  shrift  in  the  Cape  Fear  River. 
The  Southern  Cross  would  be  warmly  welcome, 
but  she  would  never  come  out  under  the  Stars 
and  Stripes.  There  is  going  to  be  a  war  there, 
my  boy.  Y'our  father  doesn't  think  so  —  many 
of  your  people  don't  think  so.  But  in  your  south- 
ern states  they  know  it  is  coming.  That  is  not 
the  question  as  I  see  it.  The  question  is,  When 
will  the  war  begin  ?  It  may  have  begun  ten 
days  ago.  It  will  have  begun,  I'm  afraid,  be- 
fore you  can  get  into  Wilmington — and  out 
again." 

"  But  Wilmington  is  in  North  Carolina.  You 
don't  expect  North  Carolina  to  secede,  do  you  ? 
They've  voted  against  it  already.  The  worst 
they'd  do  if  it  came  to  a  fight  would  be  to 
remain  neutral." 

Patrick  Odell  sat  awhile  in  thoughtful  silence. 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  13 

He  had  his  hobbies,  his  foibles,  but  he  was  a 
man  of  exceptionally  shrewd  judgment,  never- 
theless. For  a  man  of  clear  vision  London  was 
a  better  viewpoint  than  either  New  York  or 
Charleston. 

"  I  don't  think  neutrality  will  be  possible, — for 
very  long,  anyway,  — and  I  doubt  if  state  bounda- 
ries prove  important.  The  quarrel  cuts  deeper 
than  that.    Do  you  know  Wilmington  very  well?" 

"  No,  I've  called  there  several  times,  but  I 
haven't  any  acquaintance  there  that  amounts  to 
anything.  I  suppose  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
sympathy  with  the  Confederacy.  But  the  state 
won't  go  out  of  the  Union.  They've  even  voted 
against  a  convention  to  consider  it." 

"  They  passed  a  military  bill,  though,  six 
weeks  ago,  arming  an  increased  militia.  And 
there's  something  else.  Do  you  know  what  will 
make  a  large  part  of  your  cargo  if  you  sail  for 
Wilmington  ?  Muskets,  Captain  Carver,  and 
shoes  and  blankets.  A  Wilmington  gentleman, 
a  Mr.  Harper  Townley,  has  been  over  here  buying 
them.  I  don't  know  what  else  he's  been  doing, 
but  that  doesn't  look  as  though  he  expected  un- 
broken peace.  That  is  only  one  of  the  straws. 
They  all  point  to  war,  a  great  war,  unless  I've 
read  the  signs  all  wrong.  Your  present  foreign 
secretary  has  spoken  of  the  '  irrepressible  con- 
flict.'    I  believe  it  has  begun." 


U  TKAITUK   AND    LOYALIST 

Mart  in  leaned  forward,  liis  elbows  on  the  table, 
and  ran  his  big  hands  through  his  hair.  He  was 
silent  for  a  while.  "  You  have  taken  me  by  sur- 
prise, Mr.  Odell,"  he  said,  and  then  fell  silent 
again.  But  at  last  he  let  his  clasped  hands  fall 
forward  on  the  table,  shook  his  head  impatiently, 
and  looked  across  at  the  thin  little  man. 

"  I've  spent  my  life  at  sea,"  he  said.  "  I'm  no 
politician.  I've  left  state's  rights  and  squatter 
sovereignty  to  those  who  understand  them. 
There's  all  I  can  ever  know,  and  a  good  deal 
more,  to  be  learned  out  of  sight  of  land.  But 
still  I  think  you're  mistaken,  Mr.  Odell.  There 
are  always  a  good  many  men  in  a  ship's  com- 
pany w^ho  say  a  great  deal  more  than  they  mean 
to  do,  and  I  guess  it's  much  the  same  ashore ; 
there's  plenty  of  big  talk  and  small  actions.  I 
should  act  on  your  judgment  rather  than  my 
own,  though,  if  it  weren't  for  my  father's  letter. 
He  had  as  late  information  when  he  wrote  that, 
I  suppose,  as  we  have  now." 

He  made  rather  a  long  pause  there,  and  his 
eyes  which  had  held  Odell's  while  he  spoke  were 
gazing  absently  through  the  port-hole.  It  was 
clear  that  he  had  something  more  to  say,  and 
Odell  waited  for  it. 

"  It's  easy  for  a  man  to  puzzle  himself  over 
large  questions,"  he  w^ent  on  at  last.  He  was 
speaking   very  slowly,  and    there    was   an   odd 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  15 

change  in  his  voice  and  his  inflection  which. 
caught  Odell's  attention.  "  I  have  sometimes 
done  it.  I  have  asked  myself  more  questions 
during  a  night-watch  than  I  could  find  answers 
for  in  all  my  life.  There  are  men  who  can  do 
some  good  that  way,  with  the  large  questions,  I 
mean,  but  not  many,  I  think,  and  I  know  I'm 
not  one.  There's  a  great  question  now  between 
the  North  and  the  South.  There  are  plenty  of 
people  trying  to  find  the  answer,  but  I  have  no 
answer." 

Then  he  roused  himself,  and  in  his  old  man- 
ner he  said,  "  I  have  problems  enough  in  sailing 
my  ship  and  obeying  orders  from  home,  and  I 
guess  it's  pretty  clear  that  my  duty  now  is  to 
carry  out  instructions  and  take  my  ship  back  to 
Wilmington."  His  smile  as  he  finished  was  not 
apologetic,  but  it  took  off  the  edge,  somewhat, 
of  his  flat  rejection  of  the  older  man's  advice. 

Nevertheless,  Odell  rose  a  little  stiffly.  "  Very 
good,"  he  said.  "  It's  your  responsibility,  of 
course."  In  a  moment,  however,  he  changed  his 
mind  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  I'm  very  sorry 
that  I  couldn't  convince  you,  but  you're  right 
to  do  what  seems  best  to  you." 

They  talked  a  little  longer,  and  as  he  was 
about  to  go,  Odell  said,  "  I  shall  have  some  pas- 
sengers for  you  for  Wilmington,  —  Mr.  Townley, 
of    whom    I    spoke    to  you,  and    his    wife    and 


16  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

daugliter.  Tlicy're  waiting  to  lioar  whether 
you're  going  to  sail  for  there  or  not.  I  must 
write  them  to-day." 

*'  We  aren't  really  very  well  equipped  to  carry 
passengers,"  Martin  protested ;  "  and  they'll 
reach  home  much  sooner  if  they  go  l)y  New 
York.  We'll  l)e  several  days  getting  off  and 
there's  no  telling  what  wind  and  weather  we 
may  fall  in  with." 

Mr.  Odell  laughed.  "  They're  determined  to 
go  direct  to  Wilmington,  and  are  only  waiting 
to  hear  what  you  mean  to  do.  Mrs.  Townley 
and  her  daughter  will  surely  go.  Townley  him- 
self has  meant  all  along  to  go  with  them,  but 
he  thinks  now  that  he  mav  be  detained." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Martin.  "  Am  I  to  have 
charge  of  a  woman  and  child  alone  ?  I  can't  do 
it  at  all.  What  could  I  do  with  them  if  it  began 
to  blow  ?  " 

"Wait  till  you  see  them,"  said  Mr.  Odell,  "the 
'  child '  especially.  They'll  come  down  here 
directly  they  get  my  letter.  I'll  have  Mrs.  Odell 
come  too,  and  we'll  all  dine  together." 


CHAPTER    II 

Mr.  and  Mrs,  Harper  Townley,  of  Wilming- 
ton, North  Carolina,  lived  in  only  moderately 
prosperous  circumstances,  and  their  decision  to 
send  their  only  daughter,  Celia,  to  England  to 
''  finish "  her  education  caused  some  comment 
among  their  neighbors.  It  was  to  be  done  only 
at  a  sacrifice,  but  as  nothing  could  be  too  good 
and  but  few  things  good  enough  for  Celia,  they 
made  the  sacrifice  most  cheerfully.  After  she 
had  been  gone  about  a  jesiT,  the  home  in  Wil- 
mington was  broken  up  for  business  reasons 
which  kept  both  Mr.  Townley  and  his  son, 
Harper  Junior,  almost  constantly  away  from  the 
city,  the  house  was  rented,  and  Mrs.  Townley 
went  to  England  to  spend  the  second  year  with 
her  daughter.     That  was  in  the  fall  of  1860. 

The  spring  of  '61  brought  them  a  series  of 
surprises.  First,  the  unlooked-for  appearance 
of  Mr.  Townley ;  then  his  announcement  that 
they  were  to  go  home  with  him  as  soon  as  some 
business  he  had  at  hand  could  be  settled ;  last  of 
all  his  decision  that  his  wife  and  daughter  should 
go  at  once,  without  waiting  for  him.  He  would 
follow  as  closely  as  possible. 

c  17 


18  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

These  rather  kaleidoscopic  changes  wrought 
in  Celia  a  mixture  of  sentiments  in  which  she 
herself  could  not  decide  whether  sweet  or  bitter 
was  the  predominant  flavor. 

All  her  life  she  had  been  given  pretty  much 
her  own  way,  had  been  openly  admired  by  out- 
siders and  none  the  less  openly  adored  by  her 
family,  whom  she  domineered  over  and  loved 
devotedly  in  return.  Now  all  of  them  at  home, 
including  Harper,  her  older  brother  and  special 
ally,  seemed  suddenly  to  be  making  plans  and 
doing  surprising  things  without  the  slightest 
regard  to  her,  and  with  never  so  much  as  "by 
your  leave." 

She  was  glad  to  be  going  home  again  on  any 
terms,  and  the  long  voyage  in  a  sailing  ship  was 
as  pleasant  a  prospect  as  possible ;  but  Mr.  Odell, 
with  better  intentions  than  results,  had  talked 
about  the  Southern  Cross  and  her  boy  captain 
until  Oelia  was  heartily  tired  of  hearing  about 
it.  She  knew  nothing  against  Martin  Carver 
except  that  he  was  a  Northerner  —  a  Yankee  — 
so  after  deciding  that  he  must  be  rather  ridicu- 
lous, she  dismissed  him  from  her  mind  until  the 
inevitable  hour  when  they  should  dine  together 
in  Liverpool  a  day  or  two  before  sailing. 

When  Mr.  Odell  presented  him  on  the  night 
of  the  dinner,  she  got  the  shock  of  a  violent  sur- 
prise.    She  hardly   more   than   glanced  at   him 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  19 

during  the  moment  of  the  introduction,  but  in 
that  glance  she  catalogued  the  following  facts: 
that  he  looked  fully  forty,  that  his  hair  was 
grayish,  his  beard  cut  in  an  outlandish  fashion, 
or  rather  in  no  fashion  at  all  (by  that  you  are 
to  understand  that  he  did  not  wear  the  long 
"weepers  "  assumed  by  Mr.  Sothern's  Lord  Dun- 
dreary), that  he  stooped  and  stood  a  little  side- 
ways, and  that  his  clothes  —  he  was  in  evening 
dress  —  didn't  fit,  or  at  least  were  wrinkled,  and 
in  a  style  two  years  old. 

That  was  all  more  or  less  true.  He  certainly 
looked  nearer  the  man  of  forty  than  the  boy  of 
four  years  back  who  had  furnished  the  basis 
of  Mr.  Odell's  description.  He  stooped,  you 
may  almost  say  crouched  a  little,  as  nearly  every 
man  does  who  has  to  accommodate  himself  to 
people  a  foot  shorter  than  he,  to  talk  to  them, 
to  use  their  furniture,  and  go  through  their 
doors ;  as  to  his  dress,  a  single  voyage,  if  it  be 
a  long  one,  is  enough  to  put  a  seaman's  shore 
clothes  out  of  fashion  and  to  leave  him  a  little 
awkward  in  them.  All  of  those  allowances 
would  have  been  made  at  once  by  a  reasonable 
and  friendly  critic,  but  Celia  was  not  friendly, 
and  cheerfully  owned  to  being  unreasonable. 

The  company  after  a  moment  divided,  Mrs. 
Odell,  Mr.  Townley,  and  Martin  Carver  in  one 
group,  and  Celia,  her  mother,  and  Mr.  Odell  in 


20  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

the  other.  Celia  woukl  liavc  looked  again  at 
Martin,  but  that  she  felt  he  was  looking  at 
her.  She  turned  quite  away  from  him  and 
addressed  Mr.  Odell.  He  had  the  true  Irish 
love  for  a  pretty  face,  and  they  were  by  this 
time  great  friends. 

"  I  ought  to  have  guessed  that  you  w^ere  draw- 
ing the  long  bow,"  she  said.  "  But  you  ought 
to  be  careful  liow  you  tell  romantic  stories  to 
romantic  young  girls.  What  if  I  had  fallen  in 
love  with  your  mythical  boy  captain  —  your 
handsome  boy  captain,  only  —  how  old  was  it? 
—  twenty-four?  I  ought  to  have  fainted  away 
when  I  found  how  I  had  been  deceived.  It  would 
have  been  no  more  than  3^ou  deserve." 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  he  does  a  man's  work.  It  has 
bent  his  shoulders  and  lined  his  face,  but  he  has 
a  boy's  heart  still,  to  m}^  thinking."  He  smiled 
tolerantly  as  he  said  it,  not  displeased  that  she 
should  be  impudent  with  him,  but  still  not  caring 
to  join  her  rather  forced  banter.  That  and  her 
mother's  plain  look  of  disapproval  drove  her  a 
step  further.  "  Perhaps  "  —  she  lowered  her 
voice  —  "  perhaps  the  captain  w^as  too  busy  to 
come,  and  has  sent  the  —  what  is  it  they  have 
on  ships  ?  —  the  boatswain  instead." 

"  Celia  !  "  cried  her  mother.  Mr.  Odell  flushed 
angrily.  Impudence  was  w^ell  enough,  but  there 
was  something  too  much  of  it  here.     In  a  mo- 


'  Perhaps  the  captain  was  too  busy  to  come,  and  has  sent  the 
—  the  boatswain  instead.'" 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  21 

ment  more,  though,  he  gave  a  chuckle  of  real 
amusement. 

She  looked  at  him  interrogatively.  "  What  is 
it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing  witty,  my  dear.  I  was  amus- 
ing myself  with  thinking  of  the  handsome  re- 
traction you'll  be  making  some  day.  I  shan't 
be  there  to  see,  but  I  shall  enjoy  imagining  it." 

Celia  had  turned  toward  Martin  again.  Her 
second  glance  merely  confirmed  the  first ;  at  least 
she  was  able  to  make  it  do  so.  Then  she  looked 
back  to  Mr.  Odell  with  a  not  quite  imperceptible 
shrug  of  her  bare  shoulders.  "  Perhaps  it's  just 
as  well  that  you're  depending  on  imagination  for 
your  enjoyment  of  it,"  she  said. 

"  Did  you  hear  Titiens  and  Alboni  sing 
'  Semiramide '  the  other  night,  Mr.  Odell  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Townley,  quickly. 

To  her  relief  dinner  was  announced  before  he 
had  time  to  reply.  After  they  were  seated  he 
reverted  to  her  question,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
the  talk  was  on  musical  matters,  —  the  new  opera, 
"  Martha,"  which  Titiens  was  bringing  into  high 
favor,  Mr.  Wallace's  "  Lurline,"  over  which  there 
was  some  discussion  as  to  whether  or  not  it  was 
better  than  "  Maritana,"  and  somebody  spoke  of 
the  disastrous  failure  in  Paris,  the  month  before, 
of  Richard  Wagner's  "  Tannhauser."  The  dis- 
cussion   was    limited    to  the  four  older  people, 


22  TllAlTOR   AND   LOYALIST 

for  Martin,  of  course,  could  say  notliing  on  the 
sul)ject  and  Celia  wouldn't.  She  was,  in  fact, 
extremely  cross  and  a  little  sulky.  She  had 
insulted  her  good  friend,  Mr.  Odell,  and  had 
got  from  him  a  rebuke  which  was  the  sharper 
for  its  obliquity ;  she  had  distressed  her  mother, 
and,  worst  of  all,  her  attempt  to  ridicule  Martin 
Carver  had  fallen  flat.  It  was  not  very  funny, 
she  must  admit. 

"  I've  often  fancied,"  said  Odell,  addressing 
Martin,  "  from  your  speaking  voice  that  you 
ought  to  sing  yourself." 

Celia  looked  up  at  him,  wickedly  hoping  he 
would  confess  to  "  Larboard  Watch  Ahoy "  or 
perhaps  even  "  Gentle  Annie." 

"  When  I  was  before  the  mast,"  he  said,  "  they 
paid  me  the  compliment  of  making  me  chantey 
man.     I'm  not  sure  that  you  know  what  that  is." 

Those  w^ere  the  first  consecutive  words  she  had 
heard  him  speak,  and  her  pleasure  in  the  mere 
sound  of  his  voice  obliterated,  or  delayed  for  a 
moment,  their  meaning. 

"  Do  you  know,  Miss  Celia  ? "  asked  Odell, 
innocently. 

She  was  looking  at  Martin,  but  did  not  at  once 
make  any  reply,  though  now  he  was  waiting  for 
it.  Then  she  caught  herself  and  answered  coolly 
that  she  did  not  know  but  would  like  to  very 
well.     Mr.   Odell    was   looking   at   her,   smiling 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  23 

again,  and  that  made  her  flush,  which,  in  turn, 
made  her  cross  again,  and  she  missed  the  greater 
part  of  Carver's  explanation. 

But  the  others  listened  and  led  him  on  to  talk 
about  the  sea,  and  before  long  she  had  forgotten 
her  disgust  with  herself  and  her  annoyance  over 
what  she  chose  to  consider  Mr.  Odell's  offences, 
and  was  paying  as  close  attention  as  any  of  them. 

And  w^hen  the  party  broke  up  for  the  evening 
she  braved  Mr.  Odell's  smile,  though  she  flushed 
consciously  under  it,  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
Martin  Carver.  "  We've  enjoj^ed  the  things  you 
told  us  very  much  indeed,"  she  said. 

During  the  drive  to  their  hotel  with  her  father 
and  mother  she  was  silent,  but  when  she  had 
been  alone  in  her  room  a  little  while,  she  was 
glad  to  hear  her  mother's  knock,  and  to  observe 
as  she  came  in  that  it  was  to  settle  down  for  one 
of  their  old-time  midnight  visits. 

"  Your  father  had  some  matters  to  attend  to 
before  he  could  go  to  bed,"  said  Mrs.  Townley, 
in  explanation. 

Celia  frowned.  "  I  hate  mj^stery,"  she  said  ; 
"  at  least  I  hate  to  be  left  out  of  a  mystery." 
She  drew  an  ottoman  close  to  her  mother's  chair, 
seated  herself  on  it,  and  asked,  "  Don't  you  think 
I'm  old  enough  to  be  trusted  with  this  one, 
Mummy  ?  " 

Her  mother  patted  the  brown  head  resting  on 


24  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

lior  knoe.  "It's  notliing  for  yon  to  worry  about, 
claugliter,"  slie  said. 

Celia  drew  lierself  iij)  as  majestically  as  the 
ottoman  permitted  and  made  no  re]:)ly,  but  in 
a  moment  she  nestled  back  in  the  old  way. 
"  There  ! "  she  said,  and  then  after  a  little  pause, 
"  It  was  a  pleasant  evening  after  all ;  even  after 
I  had  tried  as  hard  as  I  could  to  spoil  it." 

"  Your  father  is  very  much  pleased  with  Mr. 
Carver.  He  says  he  is  evidently  a  man  of  con- 
siderable ability  in  his  line  and  not  at  all  reck- 
less. He  will  feel  a  good  deal  safer  about  us  for 
having  met  him." 

"  He  isn't  so  uncivilized  as  I  thought  at  first, 
ril  retract  that  much  for  Mr.  Odell's  satisfac- 
tion. I'm  sure  he  is  not  a  —  a  boatswain  in  dis- 
guise. He's  more  like  a  gentleman  than  most 
Yankees." 

"  How  many  Yankees  do  you  know,  dear  ?  " 
asked  her  mother,  laughing. 

"  Well,  I  know  what  they're  like,  and  so  do 
3^ou,  mother.  You  remember  what  Dolly  Sher- 
win  said  about  some  of  the  ones  she  saw  at 
Washington." 

Her  mother  nodded.  "Just  think,"  she  said, 
"  in  a  month  you  and  Dolly  will  have  forgotten 
you've  ever  been  apart  at  all." 

On  the  next  day  but  one  after  the  dinner,  the 
Southern  Cross  with  her  new  cargo  and  her  two 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  25 

passengers  aboard  sailed  out  of  the  Mersey.  Mr. 
Townley  and  Mr.  Odell  both  came  aboard  to  see 
them  off,  and  did  not  go  over  the  side  till  the 
anchors  hung  at  the  cat-heads  and  the  great 
bird  had  spread  her  wings  for  flight. 

Martin  Carver  had  known  nothing,  of  course, 
of  the  various  motives  which  had  led  to  Celia's 
friendly  demonstration  at  the  end  of  the  dinner,  — 
the  wish  to  defy  Mr.  Odell,  to  propitiate  her 
mother,  and,  somewhat  more  generously,  to  atone 
for  an  injustice  to  himself  of  which  he  could  not 
possibly  have  been  aware.  What  he  knew  was 
that  she  had  come  across  the  room  to  him,  to 
A^m,  and  had  smiled  up  at  him  and  given  him 
her  hand  and  said,  "  We've  enjoyed  the  things 
you  told  us  very  much  indeed." 

That  was  not  a  great  deal  for  a  pretty  girl  to 
say  or  do,  but  it  was  enough  to  bring  the  blood 
surging  up  under  his  tanned  and  wrinkled  skin 
and  his  ill-cut  beard.  Indeed  it  was  only  a  boy 
who  lay  long  awake  that  night,  remembering. 
Remembering  the  beruffled  pink  gown  with  its 
low  bodice,  and  the  one  pink  rose  she  wore, 
her  slender  arms,  and  the  two  brown  curls  which 
framed  her  neck  and  lying  dark  on  her  white 
bosom  made  it  the  whiter ;  remembering  how,  half 
disdainfully,  she  had  ignored  him  at  the  first,  and 
then,  at  the  last,  the  one  moment  w^hen  she  had 
given  him  her  hand  and  smiled  at  him. 


26  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

If  Celia  had  been  less  preoccupied  with  what 
Mr.  Odell  was  thinking  and  what  he  might  choose 
to  say  in  triumph  afterward,  she  w^ould  have  seen 
something  of  tlie  havoc  tliis  easily  given  favor 
was  working,  and  the  stooping  shoulders,  the  tan, 
and  the  wrinkles  would  not  have  availed  to  dis- 
guise the  boy  who  stood  before  her.  She  made 
the  discovery  soon  enough  as  it  was,  and  it  can- 
not be  denied  that  she  enjoyed  it. 

At  twenty  Celia  Townley  was  old  in  the  ex- 
perience of  a  certain  sort  of  half-serious  love- 
making,  old  enough,  indeed,  to  have  ceased  to 
care  for  it.  All  the  boys  she  had  grown  up  with 
had,  at  one  time  or  another,  fallen  in  love  with 
her,  and  she  had  discouraged  them,  sent  them 
away,  brought  them  back  —  put  them  through 
their  paces,  in  short,  just  as  Dolly  Sherwin  and 
her  other  friends  did  and  as  their  mothers 
had  done  before  them.  It  was  all  a  verv  inno- 
cent  sort  of  thing,  but  she  knew  it  was  rather 
silly  and  when  she  was  starting  away  for  her 
two  years  in  England  and  had  made  her  fare- 
wells to  the  disconsolate  two  or  three  who 
happened  at  the  time  to  be  so  affected  by  the 
event,  she  resolved  that  she  would  never  do  it 
any  more. 

Certainly  nothing  was  farther  from  her  mind, 
when  she  and  her  mother  went  aboard  the 
Southern   Cross,  than  a  flirtation  w^ith   the    lank 


THE   SOUTH E MIS'  CROSS  27 

Yankee  captain.  But  before  the  ship  was  out  of 
the  Merse}^,  her  mind  was  sufficiently  disengaged 
from  the  past  to  take  an  active  interest  in  the 
present,  and  the  most  interesting  circumstance 
under  her  observation  was  the  attitude  toward 
herself  of  Martin  Carver.  She  noticed  how  he 
blushed  when  she  spoke  to  him,  how  eager  were 
all  his  little  attentions  to  her  mother  and  herself, 
how  her  showing  interest  in  any  of  his  duties 
pleased  him,  and  how  distressed  he  was  when  she 
had  betrayed  him  into  saying  something  which 
she  could  torture  into  dispraise  of  herself.  His 
devotion  was  very  boyish,  very  primitive,  but 
with  all  her  experience  she  liked  it,  partly  be- 
cause she  liked  him,  partly  because  he  belonged 
so  evidently  to  another  world  than  hers  that  he 
piqued  her  curiosity.  It  was  delightful  to  see 
this  bearded  giant,  to  whom  the  complex  enginery 
of  a  great  ship  was  so  simple,  whose  lightest 
command  had  instant  obedience,  who  carried  the 
lives  of  all  of  them  in  his  great  hands,  —  to  see  him 
confused  and  helpless  before  the  simple  riddles 
she  offered  him. 

For  the  first  few  days  of  the  voyage  the  weather 
was  crystal  clear,  the  sea  calm,  and  the  breeze  so 
light  as  to  little  more  than  keep  the  ship,  for  all 
her  great  spread  of  canvas,  under  steerageway. 
Martin  made  as  much  as  he  could  of  the  leisure 
this  state  of  things  offered,  and  as  for  Celia,  if 


28  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

her  conscience  was  not  perfectly  easy,  she  could 
at  least  pretend  that  it  was. 

But  when  her  mother  came  into  her  cabin  one 
night  just  after  she  had  got  into  bed  and  said 
she  wished  to  talk  with  her,  she  guessed  at  once 
what  w\as  coming. 

Mrs.  Townley  lighted  the  lamp.  "  Can't  we 
talk  in  the  dark  just  as  well.  Mummy  ?  "  Celia 
asked. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Townley,  thoughtfully,  "  I 
don't  believe  we  can  to-niglit." 

Celia  shielded  her  eyes  from  the  light  and 
smiled,  but  the  look  in  her  mother's  face  sobered 
her.  She  raised  herself  on  her  hands  and  placed 
the  pillow  upright  behind  her,  then  faced  her 
mother  again,  sitting  quite  erect.  "  What  do 
you  want  to  talk  about,  mother  ?  "  she  asked. 

For  a  little  while  Mrs.  Townley  was  silent,  and 
when  she  did  speak  it  was,  at  first,  only  to  say, 
"  I  don't  know  that  my  saying  anything  can  do 
any  good,"  but  presently  she  continued :  — 

"  Of  course  you  have  known,  Celia,  that  what 
you  have  been  doing  since  we  sailed  has  dis- 
pleased me  and  hurt  me  —  yes,  and  made  me  a 
little  ashamed  of  you." 

"  Mother ! " 

"  And  I  don't  know  that  saying  it,  when 
you've  known  it  all  along,  will  make  any  differ- 
ence to  you." 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  29 

Celia  looked  at  her,  wide-eyed.  "  I  don't 
know  what  you  mean,"  she  said  slowly,  but  her 
face  turned  crimson  and  she  buried  it  in  her  hands. 

"  I  mean  that  you  have  been  trying  to  lead 
Captain  Carver  on  into  making  love  to  you.  I 
don't  understand  why.  You  would  hardly  want 
to  boast  of  such  a  conquest  to  —  " 

Celia  looked  up  quickly.  "  Why  don't  you 
talk  to  him  about  it  ? "  she  cried.  "  If  you're 
ashamed  of  me,  and  if  you  think  it  no  use  talk- 
ing to  me,  why  don't  you  warn  him  —  if  he  isn't 
old  enough  to  guard  himself  against  me ! " 

"He  isn't  —  so  far  as  that  goes,"  said  her 
mother,  "  and  you  know  it  perfectly  well.  But 
that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  I'm  not 
concerned  about  Captain  Carver  or  his  feelings, 
but  I  am  concerned  when  my  daughter  degrades 
herself  by  flirting  with  a  Yankee  sea-captain.  I 
had  always  thought  I  could  trust  your  sense  of 
the  fitness  of  things  to  tell  you  who  were  our 
kind  of  people  and  who  weren't.  It  seems  I 
was  mistaken." 

Celia  made  no  reply.  She  had  turned  away 
from  her  mother  as  far  as  possible,  and,  with  her 
face  buried  in  the  crook  of  her  arm,  was  strug- 
gling with  her  sobs. 

Her  mother  watched  her  a  moment,  and  then 
her  own  breathing  grew  tremulous  and  she  held 
out  her  hands.     "  Celia,"  she  said. 


30  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

But  tlie  girl  made  no  more  response  tlian  to 
huddle  a  little  farther  away.  "  It  may  be,"  said 
Mrs.  Townley,  in  a  troubled  voice,  "  that  your 
father  and  I  are  a  little  to  blame.  Mr.  Odell,  of 
course,  being  a  foreigner,  could  not  understand, 
and  your  father  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  meet- 
ino;  him  at  the  dinner.  But  vou  seemed  to 
understand  well  enough  then.  As  you  said,  the 
captain  is  more  civilized  than  most  of  them, 
but  —  " 

Celia  faced  her  mother  again,  defiantly.  Her 
lips  trembled  so  that  she  could  hardly  articulate, 
but  by  struggling  with  each  word  she  got  it  out. 
"He  is  as  good  a  gentleman  as  anybody,  and 
if  he  should  ask  me  to  marry  him  I  believe  I 
would  do  it.  Nobody  else  cares  anything  about 
me.  You're  ashamed  of  me,  and  father  has 
reasons  of  his  own,  and  — "  Her  words  came 
quicker  toward  the  last,  and  ended  in  a  sob  as 
she  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow. 

Her  mother  for  a  little  while  continued  where 
she  was,  sometimes  making  a  motion  as  if  to  tr}^ 
to  comfort  the  quivering  figure  in  the  bed  and 
then  drawing  back  again.  At  last  she  stood  up 
and  bent  over  her.  "  Celia,"  she  said,  "  I  was 
angry  and  I'm  afraid  I've  made  a  mistake.  We 
won't  talk  about  it  any  more  to-night."  Then 
she  put  out  the  light  and  softly  closed  the  door 
behind  her. 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  31 

Any  sort  of  rebuke  was  rare  in  Celia's  experi- 
ence, and,  from  her  mother,  almost  unknown. 
This  one  cut  deep,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before 
the  impetus  of  her  emotion  spent  itself ;  but  at 
last  it  did  and  she  could  lie  still  again  and  draw 
a  long  breath  comparatively  steadily.  But  she 
was  neither  awake  nor  asleep,  she  could  get 
neither  the  self-command  of  the  one  state  nor 
the  self-forgetfulness  of  the  other,  and  coming 
finally  to  the  end  of  her  endurance  she  dressed 
herself,  as  best  she  could  in  the  dark,  and  went 
softly  up  on  deck. 

She  was  still  not  fully  in  possession  of  herself, 
and  when  Martin  Carver  spoke  to  her  from  near 
at  hand,  she  started  and  almost  cried  out.  Then 
"  I  didn't  know  you  were  here,"  she  said. 

Except  for  the  seaman  who  was  standing  his 
trick  at  the  wheel,  they  had  the  quarter-deck 
to  themselves,  for  with  the  captain  in  charge, 
the  second  mate,  w^hose  watch  it  was,  had  gone 
forward. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously.  "  Is  any- 
thing the  matter  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  and  instinctively  turned  a 
little  away,  because  she  had  been  crying,  though 
what  faint  light  there  was  on  deck  would  not 
have  betrayed  her  under  any  scrutiny. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  still  offended  with  me," 
said  Martin.     She  had  affected  to  be  indignant 


32  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

over  sometliiui::;  ho  had  done  or  loft  nndono  that 
very  evening,  ])iit  slie  looked  at  him  now  in  genu- 
ine surprise.  Then  slowly  it  came  back  to  her, 
—  it  and  a  dozen  other  pretences  she  had  imposed 
upon  him,  —  and  her  face  crimsoned  and  again 
she  turned  away.     All  that  seemed  long  ago. 

"  I  wasn't  offended  w^ith  you  this  evening." 
She  spoke  absently,  and  though  she  paused  he 
waited  for  what  she  had  still  to  say.  "  Not  yes- 
terday nor  any  other  time  since  I  met  you.  I 
was  —  it  was  all  —  " 

She  made  no  attempt  to  finish,  and  after  a 
little  period  of  troubled  silence  he  said,  "  I  don't 
understand  —  " 

She  interrupted  him.  "  No,  you  don't  under- 
stand." Then  she  drew  herself  up  and  faced 
him  squarely,  "  Captain  Carver,  I  have  treated 
you  abominably." 

''  Only  sometimes,"  he  interrupted. 

She  laughed  shortly.  "  No.  The  rest  of  the 
time  was  worse.  I  am  sorry  and  I  beg  your 
pardon." 

He  barely  heeded  the  words  at  all.  It  was 
her  tone,  cold,  serious,  measured,  that  carried 
her  meaning,  or  part  of  it,  to  him.  He  started 
to  speak,  but  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  he 
could  say,  and  dropping  his  hands  on  the  rail, 
he  stared  out  over  the  black  water. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  understand,  quite,"  the 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  33 

girl  went  on,  uncertainly.  "  I  want  to  start 
again.  I  want  us  to  be  friends  —  honestly 
friends.     Don't  you  think  we  can  be  ?  " 

He  was  silent  so  long  that  she  stirred  uneasily, 
but  at  last  he  faced  her  and  answered  slowly. 

"  I'm  not  sure.  Perhaps  we  can.  We'll  try 
to  be  ;  and  —  thank  you.  Miss  Celia." 

She  was  determined  against  another  silence. 
"  It  must  be  very  late,"  she  said. 

"  Just  gone  five  bells,  in  the  middle  watch. 
Half-past  two." 

"  Why  were  you  —  on  deck  ?  "  She  thought 
when  too  late  to  check  it  that  the  question  was 
indiscreet. 

"  There's  a  storm  coming,"  he  answered. 
"  The  barometer  has  been  falling  since  nine 
o'clock."  He  looked  about  the  sky  and  added, 
"  We'll  be  getting  the  first  of  it  before  very  long. 
You  had  better  get  what  sleep  you  can  before 
it  comes.  You  won't  have  very  much  after  that 
for  a  while."  He  paused  an  instant,  then  added, 
"  You'll  not  be  afraid,  will  you  ?  " 

He  had  walked  with  her  to  the  companion- 
way.  There  she  turned  and  held  out  her  hand 
to  him.  "  No,"  she  said  simply,  "  I  shan't  be 
afraid.     Good  night  —  and  —  thank  you." 


CHAPTER   III 

The  storm  justified  Martin's  prediction  and 
rather  more.  As  long  as  she  could  carry  sail 
the  gallant  old  ship  beat  up  into  the  tempest, 
but  at  last  she  had  to  give  it  up ;  she  was  hove 
to,  and,  her  spars  quite  bare  save  for  one  tri- 
angular rag  of  canvas  to  hold  her  head  into  the 
wind,  she  was  blown  and  buffeted  by  the  tem- 
pest a  hundred  miles  and  more  to  leeward.  Her 
main  topgallant  mast  had  gone  over  the  side, 
and  two  of  her  boats  had  been  reduced  to  a 
handful  of  slats  before  the  blow  was  over.  In- 
deed, to  the  unskilled  eyes  of  Mrs.  Townley  and 
her  daughter,  w^hen  they  first  came  up  on  deck 
after  things  had  quieted  down,  the  Southern  Cross 
looked  a  complete  wreck,  and  it  interested  them 
both  as  much  as  they,  in  their  condition,  could 
be  interested  in  anything,  to  see  how  quickly 
and  skilfully  the  mess  was  cleared  away  and 
everything  put  shipshape  again. 

After  that  there  were  days  when  it  was  flat 
calm,  or  when  what  breeze  there  was  came  from 
dead  ahead  ;  when  it  seemed  as  though  their 
voyage  had  already  lasted  for  years  and  must 
last  for    years  to  come  ;    when  all  the  interest 

34 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  3S 

they  had  had  ashore  seemed  like  dreams  which 
they  had  half  forgotten.  But  at  last  the  wind 
blew  fair,  the  towering  clouds  of  sail  came  to 
life,  and  like  a  hawk  unhooded,  the  ship  took 
flight  for  port.  The  tedium  of  the  voyage 
was  over  for  the  Townleys.  Every  day  Martin 
showed  them  their  new  position  on  the  chart, 
and  along  with  their  anxiety  to  reach  home  again 
was  mingled  a  genuine  regret  that  the  delicious 
lazy  hours  of  idling  on  deck  in  the  shadow  of  a 
sail,  watching  the  billows  as  the  great  ship  raced 
over  their  backs,  or  of  putting  off  sleep  as  long 
as  possible  while  they  listened  to  the  rustle  of 
the  water  outside  their  walls  of  oak,  would  soon 
be  at  an  end. 

One  evening  after  supper  as  they  stood  on  deck 
together  watching  the  sunset,  Martin  joined  them. 
"  We've  made  two  hundred  and  seventy  miles  in 
this  last  tw^enty-four  hours,"  he  said.  "  To- 
morrow morning  with  luck  we  ought  to  pick  up 
Federal  Point  light." 

"  I  want  to  walk,"  said  Celia.  "  Come,  mother, 
you've  taken  no  exercise  for  nearly  a  week."  As 
they  moved  off  she  invited  Martin,  by  a  nod  of 
her  head,  to  join  them ;  so  the  three  began  pacing 
abreast  up  and  down  the  deck. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  if  we  weren't  so  near  home, 
Captain  Carver,"  said  Mrs.  Townley,  "  but  I'm 
more  than  a    little   sorry   that  we  are.     We've 


36  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

spent  a  (It^light  fill  month  on  the  Southern  Cross, 
and  you'll  let  me  say  —  won't  you  ?  —  that  it  has 
been  largely  your  doing.  You  have  made  it  very 
pleasant,  and  you've  taught  us  a  good  deal  beside." 

"  I  haven't  succeeded  very  well  as  a  teacher," 
said  Martin.  ''  I  've  done  my  best,  but  I'm  afraid 
I  couldn't  trust  Miss  Celia's  reading  of  the  sex- 
tant within  five  degrees  yet.  And  she  won't  even 
try  to  box  the  compass." 

"  You  may  have  taught  us  some  things  without 
knowing  it,"  her  mother  said  quietly,  and  Celia 
hardly  believed  her  ears.  Martin  made  no 
attempt  to  discover  her  meaning,  and  in  a 
moment  Mrs.  Townley  spoke  again. 

"  We  are  going  back  as  strangers  to  Wilming- 
ton," she  said,  "  and  it  will  take  us  some  time  to 
settle  there  again  and  really  feel  at  home,  but  the 
next  time  you  are  there  you  must  make  us  a  visit." 

Martin  thanked  her,  but  he  looked  at  Celia. 
"  Of  course  you  must,"  she  said.  She  spoke  a 
little  breathlessly,  and  there  was  a  wave  of  bright 
color  in  her  face. 

Neither  Celia  nor  her  mother  had  referred 
again  to  what  had  passed  between  them  the  night 
before  the  storm.  The  acknowledged  peril  they 
were  in  during  the  next  days  did  aw^ay  even  with 
the  remembrance  of  it. 

They  had  seen  nothing  of  him  in  those  days,  but 
the  steward  was  constantly  bringing   messages, 


THE   SOUTHERN'  CROSS  37 

inquiries,  reassurances  from  him,  and  also  add- 
ing on  his  own  responsibility  some  account  of 
the  captain's  doings  ;  how  during  tlie  height  of 
the  storm  he  never  left  the  deck ;  how,  once 
or  twice,  he  had  even  gone  aloft  to  help  and 
cheer  his  exhausted  crew.  And  after  the  worst 
was  over,  and  the  ship  w^as  staggering  on 
again  under  what  little  sail  she  could  carry, 
the  steward  had  told  Celia  another  story  :  that 
the  two  men  at  the  w^heel  —  it  needed  two  men 
to  hold  the  plunging  thing  against  the  sea  that 
was  running  —  had  in  a  mad  lurch  been  hurled 
across  the  deck  and  against  the  side  so  hard  that 
both  were  disabled.  Captain  Carver  had  seized 
the  wheel  himself,  and,  instead  of  calling  aft  two 
men  to  take  their  places,  had  steered  the  vessel 
alone  for  the  rest  of  the  watch.  "  They  were 
strong  men  and  able  seamen,"  said  the  steward, 
"  but  they  couldn't  hold  it.  And  he  did  it  alone." 
When  Celia  told  the  story  over  again  to  her 
mother,  she  told  it  proudly,  as  though  he  belonged 
to  her. 

She  had  wondered  how  he  would  look  after 
the  storm  was  over,  had  expected  to  find  him 
shrunken,  grayer,  ten  years  older  than  on  the 
night  when  they  had  agreed  to  be  friends ;  and 
when  she  saw  that  he  w^as  just  the  same,  when 
he  came  up  to  her  and  simply  but  almost  shyly 
complimented    her    for    enduring  the  danger  so 


38  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

steadil}',  the  eyes  of  lior  understanding  were 
suddenly  opened  wide.  She  could  read  now  the 
story  which  was  written  in  his  gray  hairs  and  in 
the  fine  lines  about  his  eyes,  and  a  lump  in  her 
throat  kept  her  from  answering  him. 

But  she  had  studiously  avoided  talking  about 
him  or  giving  her  mother  a  chance  to  do  so.  And 
thus  it  fell  out  she  was  quite  ignorant,  until  this 
last  evening  as  the  three  paced  the  deck  to- 
gether, of  the  great  change  that  had  taken  place 
in  her  mother's  opinion  of  the  "Yankee  sea- 
captain." 

"  You  may  have  taught  us  some  things  with- 
out knowing  it."  After  the  wave  of  sheer 
incredulous  astonishment  subsided,  the  girl  found 
herself  inexplicably  happy.  She  walked  on  a 
little  way  with  them  and  managed  to  add  her 
word  to  Mrs.  Townley's  invitation  in  a  voice 
that  was  steady  enough  not  to  attract  her 
mother's  attention.  But  the  impulse  to  be 
alone  was  too  strong  to  resist,  and,  without 
making  an  excuse,  she  left  them  —  her  mother 
and  her  big  captain  —  talking  on  together,  and 
fled  to  the  solitude  of  her  own  cabin. 

Later  in  the  evening  she  and  her  mother  sat 
out  on  deck  in  the  moonlight.  The  captain  had 
been  standing  by,  talking  to  them,  —  he  never 
sat  down  himself  when  on  deck,  —  but  he  had 
gone  away  and  they  heard  the    rhythm  of    his 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  39 

footsteps  as  he  tramped  back  and  forth  behind 
them.  They  were  sitting  close  together,  and 
Celia,  finding  her  mother's  hand  under  the  folds 
of  her  shawl,  held  it  against  her  cheek  for  a 
moment  and  then  kissed  it. 

For  hours  after  they  had  gone  below  Martin 
continued  his  steady  patrol.  The  port  watch 
turned  out  at  twelve  o'clock  and  the  first 
mate  did  not  go  forw^ard  as  the  second  mate 
would  have  done  on  finding  the  captain  on  deck ; 
but  soon  discovering  that  Martin  was  not  in  a 
talking  mood,  he  withdrew  to  the  lee  side  and 
left  him  to  his  thoughts  and  his  solitary  patrol 
in  peace. 

The  voyage  was  nearl}^  at  an  end,  —  the  days  in 
which  almost  every  hour  brought  him  a  chance 
to  see  her  were  gone.  There  had  been  as  much 
pain  as  pleasure  in  them.  He  had  been  fathoms 
deep  in  love  with  her  from  the  first,  but  since 
that  night  when  she  made  her  confession  and 
asked  his  pardon  he  had  been  beyond  all  sound- 
ings. He  had  promised  to  try  to  be  friends, 
but  even  the  iron  discipline  his  training  had 
taught  him  was  barely  enough  to  hold  him.  He 
saw  nothing  extraordinary,  as  Celia  did,  in 
Mrs.  Townley's  invitation,  for  he  had  thought  of 
seeing  them  in  their  home  in  Wilmington  quite 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Mrs.  Townley's  behavior 
toward  him  had  never  given  him  a  hint  of  the 


40  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

})reju(li('0  wliirli  slio  liad  once  entertained  and 
lie  had  unwittingly  o\erconu\  But  when  his 
next  visit  to  Wilmington  would  be  was  of  course 
]>rol)leniatical.  And  what  if  Odell  were  right 
after  all  and  there  should  be  a  war !  He  had 
forgotten  politics,  continents,  everything,  in  those 
davs.    The  Southei'n  Cross  had  been  a  world  to  him. 

He  had  vaguely  heard  the  lookout  report 
a  ship  a  while  back,  but  he  started  w^hen  the 
mate  at  his  elbow  spoke  to  him. 

"  She's  a  steamer,  sir,  and  seems  to  be  headed 
for  us,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  glass.  "  Would 
you  like  to  look  at  her  ?  She's  been  in  sight  a 
good  while  and  coming  right  along." 

Martin  took  the  glass  and  looked.  "  She's 
heading  right  athwart  our  haw^se  sure  enough," 
he  said.  "  And  by  the  bone  in  her  teeth  she's  in 
a  hurry." 

^'  What  does  it  mean.  Captain  ?  " 

"We'll  know  soon  enough,  I  guess,"  said  Martin, 
grimly.  Then  he  continued,  after  a  pause  :  "  Set 
your  course  a  little  more  off  the  wind,  Mr.  Jones. 
Two  points  will  be  enough  to  find  out  wdiat  she 
means." 

«'  Yes,  sir,"  and  the  mate  repeated  the  order  to 
the  man  at  the  wheel. 

The  next  few  minutes  were  interesting.  Both 
officers  had  their  glasses  now  and  were  watch- 
ing the  on-coming  steamer  intently. 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  41 

"  There  she  goes,"  said  the  mate  as  the  steamer 
changed  her  course.     "  She  means  us." 

"  She'll  signal  us  to  heave  to  in  a  minute," 
said  the  captain.  "  Ah,  there  it  is.  She's  a 
man-of-war ;  I  can  see  her  guns."  He  shut  his 
glass  with  a  snap.  "  Put  down  your  helm,  ]\Ir. 
Jones." 

Then  came  the  hail,  "  What  ship  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  Southern  Cross,  of  New  York,  for  Wil- 
mington, thirty  days  out  of  Liverpool." 

The  captain  of  the  man-of-war  seemed  to 
think  this  a  little  too  innocent,  for  after  announc- 
ing that  his  ship  was  the  United  States  steamer 
Union,  he  added  that  he  would  send  a  boat  along- 
side ;  and  a  few  minutes  later  an  ensign  came 
over  the  rail. 

"  Are  you  the  master  ? "  he  asked  Martin. 
"  I'd  like  to  see  your  papers.  Well,"  he  went 
on  after  they  were  seated  in  the  cabin  and  a 
glance  at  the  clearance  had  convinced  him  that 
the  ship  was  as  represented,  ''  it's  lucky  for  you, 
Mr.  Carver,  that  you  fell  in  with  us.  They'd 
have  made  short  work  of  you  in  the  Cape  Fear 
River." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

u  We're  at  war  with  them.  They  took  Fort 
Sumter  a  month  ago  and  more,  and  w^ithin  a 
week  after  that  we  w^ere  right  at  it.  The  Presi- 
dent has  called  out  seventy-five  thousand  troops 


42  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

and  declared  a  blockade,  and  Jefferson  Davis  is 
issuing  letters  of  marque  to  all  the  privateers  he 
can  get.  One  of  them  is  likely  to  snap  you  up 
any  hour  —  and  a  good  prize  you'd  make,  too." 

"  But,"  said  Martin,  "  North  Carolina  wasn't  in 
the  Confederacy.  What  has  Wilmington  to  do 
with  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they're  all  together,"  the  ensign  answered. 
"  The  wdiole  coast  is  under  blockade  from  Norfolk 
down." 

The  inspection  of  the  papers  was  soon  over. 
The  boat  pulled  away,  and  presently  the  steamer 
started  on.  There  was  little  breeze.  What 
there  was,  was  coming  from  a  point  or  two  south 
of  west.  Martin  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  re- 
ceding steamer,  then  turned  to  the  mate.  "  You 
may  drop  off  to  starboard,  Mr.  Jones,  and  steer 
north."  Then  he  went  below  and  knocked  on 
Mrs.  Townley's  door. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  quickly.  "  Is  anything 
the  matter  ?  " 

"Nothing  to  alarm  you,"  said  Martin,  "but 
something  important.  I'd  like  to  speak  to  you 
and  Miss  Celia,  if  you  please." 

"  I'll  be  out  directly,"  announced  Celia  from 
her  room. 

After  the  first  shock  of  the  ensign's  announce- 
ment, Martin  put  the  large  question,  the  rights 
and  wrongs  and  possibilities  of  it  all,  out  of  his 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  43 

mind  and  gave  his  attention  to  the  immediate 
problem  which  faced  him.  What  was  he  to  do 
with  his  ship  and  his  passengers  ?  Before  he 
gave  the  last  order  to  the  mate  he  had  a  plan, 
and  while  Mrs.  Townley  and  Celia  were  dressing 
a  little  study  of  his  coast  chart  showed  him  that 
it  was  quite  possible.  He  went  on  deck  for  a 
moment,  and  taking  his  glass  with  him  focussed 
it  on  the  steamer.  She  was  about  two  miles 
away.  "We'll  begin  to  take  soundings,  if  you 
please,  Mr.  Jones ;  and  as  soon  as  that  steamer 
is  hull  down  let  me  know." 

He  found  Celia  waiting  for  him  in  the  cabin. 
"  Mother  will  be  out  in  a  minute,"  she  said ;  "  is 
it  something  very  serious  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  gravely,  and  in  as  few 
words  as  possible  he  told  her.  The  cabin  lamp 
burned  dimly  and  the  gra}^  dawn  without  had 
not  penetrated  there,  but  he  could  see  the  red 
spot  in  each  of  her  cheeks  and  how  bright  her 
eyes  were. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I'm  glad  they  did  it.  And 
I'm  proud  of  the  rest  of  the  South  for  standing 
by  them.  It  will  teach  those  meddlesome  abo- 
litionists a  lesson." 

Mrs.  Townley  made  no  comment  when  they 
told  her  the  news,  but  she  turned  a  little  pale 
and  pressed  her  lips  tightly  together  for  a  moment. 
Then   she   asked,  "  What  are  you    going  to  do 


44  TKAITOK   AND  LOYALIST 

with  us,  Captain  Car\tM'?  You  caiTl  take  us 
further  in  tlian  Sniithxille,  I  su|)}~>ose." 

"  I  can't  even  take  you  there,"  said  Martin. 
<' The  moulli  of  the  river  is  probably  under  block- 
ade already,  and  even  if  it's  not,  anything  inside 
could  capture  this  ship  —  a  tug  or  a  launch  if  it 
had  a  gun  on  board. 

"  But  I  think,"  he  went  on  before  they  had 
time  to  express  their  consternation,  "  that  I  can 
probably  land  you  from  a  boat  at  Masonboro 
Inlet.  That's  only  six  miles  from  Wilmington, 
isn't  it  ?  and  j^ou  could  drive  across.  I  can't 
promise,  of  course,  but  I  imagine  we'll  be  able  to 
land  you  there  without  being  molested." 

"  She's  hull  down  now,  sir,"  the  mate  called 
down  the  companion. 

Martin  hurried  on  deck.  The  soundings  en- 
abled him  to  determine  his  position  very  closely ; 
the  steamer  was  out  of  the  way  and  would  pay 
no  more  attention  to  him,  so  under  his  quick 
orders  the  helm  went  over  to  starboard,  her 
head  swung  up  nearer  the  wind,  and  she  began 
working  her  way  along  on  a  taut  bowline 
toward  Masonboro  Inlet. 

That  was  an  interminable  day.  The  breeze 
grew  lighter  and  lighter  as  the  morning  advanced, 
and  about  noon  dropped  entirely.  The  captain 
and  his  passengers  ate  their  dinner  in  gloomy 
silence.     The  great  fact  of  the  war  which  had 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  45 

come  upon  them  so  suddenly  was  big  with  portent. 
It  insistently  asked  questions  and  suggested 
speculations,  it  wrapped  itself  around  even  the 
most  minute  and  routine  matters,  and  still  the 
stupendous  nature  of  itself  forbade  the  finding  of 
answers  to  the  very  questions  it  asked.  As 
Martin  Carver  had  done,  both  women  made  a 
resolute  effort  to  push  it  back  for  a  few  hours, 
until  the  thing  which  lay  just  before  them  could 
be  accomplished.  It  would  have  been  hard 
enough  to  do  in  any  case,  but  while  their  ship 
rocked  unprogressive  on  the  glassy  ground-swell, 
it  was  impossible.  They  gave  up  even  trying  to 
talk.  Martin  went  on  deck,  and  Celia  and  her 
mother  affected  to  busy  themselves  in  their  rooms 
with  the  last  of  the  packing  up,  which  had  really 
been  done  hours  ago. 

Somehow  they  wore  out  the  day.  The  after- 
noon was  waning  when  Martin,  as  he  searched 
the  southern  horizon  with  his  glass,  heard  a  step 
beside  him.  Celia  had  come  on  deck  alone. 
"  Are  you  looking  for  the  wind  ? "    she  asked. 

"  The  breeze  will  be  here  soon,  but  it  will  blow 
off  land.  We'll  work  along  as  far  as  we  dare, 
and  to-morrow,  early,  we  should  be  able  to  send 
you  ashore.  We've  been  nearly  in  sight  of  land 
all  day." 

They  both  tried  nervously  to  keep  the  talk 
going,  but  it  would  not  do.     Every  subject  that 


46  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

came  up  enveloped  itself  at  once  in  the  black 
cloud  which  thoy  were  resolved  not  to  look  at 
yet,  and  at  last  Celia  admitted  that  this  was  so. 
"  Let's  not  try  to  talk  any  longer.  There's  really 
nothing  to  say." 

Martin  stood  looking  at  her.  She  ^vas  lean- 
ing back  against  the  companion,  unaware  of 
his  gaze,  her  eyes  far  out  at  sea.  The  long  voy- 
age, the  untempered  sun,  and  the  breath  of  the 
wind  had  deepened  the  ivory  tint  of  her  skin 
into  something  w^armer.  Her  lips  were  slightly 
parted  ;  her  thoughts  seemed  to  have  followed  her 
eyes  out  to  the  horizon.  Martin,  having  looked, 
was  powerless  to  look  away. 

Slowly  she  seemed  to  become  conscious  of  his 
look.  The  color  came  up  into  her  cheeks  and 
her  breathing  was  quicker.  She  turned  farther 
away  from  him,  and  then,  involuntarily  it 
seemed,  turned  back  again  and  their  eyes  met. 
The  words  he  tried  to  say  would  not  come  to  his 
lips.  So  they  stood  for  a  moment,  and  then  she 
found  herself.  With  a  little  gasp  that  tried  to 
be  a  laugh  she  broke  the  silence. 

<'  Give  me  the  glass,"  she  said.  "  I'll  try  to 
find  what  you  w^ere  looking  for." 

His  hand  shook  as  he  gave  it  to  her,  and  she 
did  not  hold  it  very  steadily.  After  a  moment 
his  eyes  followed  its  direction  out  to  the  south 
and  then,  suddenly,  — 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  47 

"  Let  me  take  it  again,  please,"  he  said.  The 
crisp  resonance  of  his  voice  startled  her,  and  his 
impatient  hurry  as  he  focussed  the  glass  again 
made  her  look  back  to  the  horizon  apprehen- 
sively. She  thought  she  made  out  a  faint  blur, 
—  yes,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it,  a  tiny 
smudge  of  smoke. 

"  Bring  your  glass,  Mr.  Jones,  and  tell  me 
what  you  make  of  this,"  called  Martin.  The 
two  men  gazed  in  silence  for  a  while.  Then  the 
mate  lowered  his  glass  and  looking  at  the  lifeless 
sails  said  grimly,  "  Well,  whatever  she  is  I  guess 
we'll  have  to  wait  for  her." 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  crinkling  scurry 
over  the  glassy  surface  of  the  water  from  the  west, 
and  a  puff  of  air  struck  their  faces.  The  yards 
creaked  as  they  swung  and  the  sails  stirred  idly. 

Martin  shot  a  quick  order  to  the  helmsman 
and  then  directed  the  mate  to  call  all  hands. 
Jones  hurried  forward  ;  there  came  a  clatter  on 
the  scuttle  and  the  cry,  "  Ahoy  the  starboard 
watch  !     Tumble  up." 

The  flaw  spent  itself  quickly,  but  in  a  moment 
came  another  and  heavier  one.  The  sails  slatted 
against  the  masts  and  then,  as  the  ship  wore 
slowly  around,  filled  again.  The  manoeuvre  was 
a  familiar  one  to  Celia,  but  there  was  something 
new  about  the  way  it  was  executed ;  the  old 
swiftness  and  precision  of  perfect  discipline  were 


48  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

just  as  ahva3^s,  but  there  was  also  a  new  note  of 
excitement.  It  rang  in  Martin's  voice,  repressed 
but  vibrant,  as  he  gave  the  orders ;  it  came  back 
plainer  still  in  the  antiphony  from  waist  and 
forecastle,  and  i)lainest  of  all  in  the  wild  swing 
of  the  chantey  that  rose  from  the  men  who  were 
hauling  at  the  braces.  She  could  only  guess  at 
the  meaning  of  it  all,  but  the  excitement  infected 
her  none  the  less  for  that.  The  glances  of  all 
about  her  shifted  between  the  hurrying  clouds 
which  were  piling  up  the  western  sky  and  the 
spreading  daub  of  black  smoke  off  to  the  south- 
ward, and  her  eyes  followed  theirs.  She  could 
make  out  a  funnel  and  a  hull  below  the  daub  now. 

Before  the  freshening  wind  the  Southern  Cross 
'  was  rapidly  gathering  headway,  but  the  funnel 
grew  larger  and  the  hull  plainer  and  the  black 
streamer  of  smoke  flaunted  wider  against  the 
sky.  Martin  had  been  watching  it  through  the 
glass.  Now  he  came  up  beside  Celia  and  handed 
it  to  her. 

"  You  ma}^  recognize  the  craft,"  he  said. 
"  She's  out  of  Wilmington  most  likely." 

The  steamer  was  a  small  side-wheel  craft 
which  she  had  often  seen  in  the  river.  The  last 
thing  about  it  to  catch  her  attention  was  an 
ungainly-looking  object  in  the  bows.  While  she 
still  looked  at  it  there  came  from  it,  silently,  a 
puff  of  flame  and  white  smoke. 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  49 

<«  What  are  they  doing  ?  "  she  asked. 

<'  Firing.  Listen ! "  and  on  the  heels  of  his 
words  came  through  the  air  a  sort  of  throb 
which  sounded,  if  one  may  call  it  a  sound,  like  a 
single  tap  upon  a  great  drum. 

"At  us  ? "  She  asked  it  half  incredulousl}'. 
He  nodded.  ''  That's  why  we're  running  awa}^," 
he  said. 

Mrs.  Townley  had  been  in  the  cabin  reading, 
and  the  "  drum  beat "  brought  her  her  first  inti- 
mation of  the  sudden  turn  affairs  had  taken. 
She  hurried  on  deck,  and  a  glance  at  the  steamer 
and  a  sentence  from  Martin  told  her  what  the 
situation  was. 

"  Wasn't  that  a  rather  imperative  summons 
to  surrender  your  ship  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little  un- 
easily. 

Martin  smiled.     "  Not  while  this  breeze  holds." 

The  gun  spoke  again,  and  Martin  noted  how 
far  short  the  shot  fell.  "  They'd  hardly  do  that 
if  they  weren't  afraid  we  had  the  heels  of  them. 
How^ever,  for  a  while,  I  think  you  and  Miss 
Celia  had  better  go  below.  There's  no  danger 
up  here,  but  perhaps  —  "  he  smilingly  admitted 
the  paradox  — "  there'd  be  even  less  down 
there." 

Celia  protested  for  a  moment,  but  soon  yielded 
and  followed  her  mother  down  the  companion- 
way. 


50  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

Really  the  issue  was  as  yet  by  no  means 
decided.  It  was  true,  as  lie  said,  tlie  Southern 
Cross  was  outfooting  her  pursuer  who  had  but 
six  or  seven  knots  in  her,  at  tlie  best,  and  the 
breeze  was  blowing  fresher  steadily.  But  the 
steamer  when  she  sighted  the  ship  had  been 
some  distance  to  seaward  of  her,  and  on  giving 
chase,  instead  of  running  in,  had  preserved  the 
advantage  this  position  bestowed.  The  westerly 
sweep  of  the  coast,  compelled  the  Southern  Cross 
to  put  out  seaward  also,  and  therefore  to  run  on 
the  hypothenuse  of  a  triangle,  while  the  steamer 
held  to  one  of  the  legs.  For  a  while,  in  spite  of 
the  ship's  greater  speed,  the  space  between  the 
two  narrowed  alarmingly.  When  the  steamer 
fired  for  the  third  time  the  shot  came  uncom- 
fortably close. 

But  that  was  the  worst  of  it,  and  in  a  moment 
more  they  were  across  the  line  and  running 
straight  away  from  her.  The  light  was  nearly 
gone,  but  by  what  was  left  they  saw  the  steamer 
put  back  for  home.  Martin  stared  after  her 
until  she  was  lost  in  the  dark.  Then  he  drew  a 
long  breath  and  went  slowly  down  into  the  cabin, 
where  his  passengers  were  waiting. 

The  gravity  of  his  face  misled  both  of  them. 
Celia  sprang  up  with  some  appearance  of  con- 
sternation and  asked,  "  Are  they  going  to  cap- 
ture us  ?  "     Mrs.  Townley's  face  asked  the  same 


THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS  51 

question,  but  its  expression  was  more  complex, 
and  when  Martin  answered,  "  No,  they've  given 
it  up  and  run  for  home,"  her  eyes  lowered  and 
her  lips  pressed  together. 

From  the  first  she  had  had  the  true  bearings 
of  the  situation  much  better  than  her  daughter, 
and  while  Celia  had  merely  felt  the  pleasant 
excitement  of  the  chase,  she  had  seen  all  too 
clearly  which  way  their  own  advantage  lay. 
But  in  spite  of  herself  her  feelings  were  much 
like  those  of  the  girl.  Her  husband  had  told  her 
when  he  purchased  them  how  valuable  to  the 
cause  would  be  the  boxes  of  muskets  in  the  hold, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  rest  of  the  cargo.  She 
knew  what  enthusiasm  would  kindle  in  doubtful 
hearts  when  so  proud  a  prize  as  the  Southern 
Cross  should  be  towed  up  the  river  and  tied  to 
the  dock  in  Wilmington.  And  yet,  while  the 
issue  was  in  doubt  she  had  not  been  able  to  wish 
the  vision  to  be  realized.  An  affection  for  the 
ship,  —  yes,  and  for  her  Yankee  master  —  had 
stood  between  her  and  her  reason,  but  now  that 
it  was  all  over  she  reproached  herself  for  her 
doubtful  loyalty. 

"  We  are  giving  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
in  getting  rid  of  us.  Captain  Carver,"  she  said 
uneasily. 

*'  I  did  nothing  that  I  wasn't  glad  to  do.'' 
The  tense  of  the  verb  and  the  seriousness  of  his 


62  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

voire  gave  lier  a  liiiil  of  wliai  was  coining,  and 
even  Celia  looked  uj)  at  him  curiously. 

"How  long  — "  Mrs.  Towiiley  was  trying  to 
speak  naturally,  but  she  had  difliculty  in  manag- 
ing it  —  "  how  long  will  it  take  us  to  get  back 
to  where  w^e  were  this  afternoon  ?  A  good  while, 
I  suppose,  against  this  wind  ?  " 

"  We  can't  go  back,"  he  said. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Celia.  "  Why 
can't  we  go  back?" 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  gone  in  to-day.  I  didn't 
know  how  great  the  risk  was ;  but  I  do  know 
now,  and  I  have  no  right  to  run  it  again." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  us  ?  "  Mrs. 
Townley  asked. 

"  We're  sailing  for  New  York." 

"  But  we  can't  go  to  New  York,"  said  Celia,  as 
though  he  did  not  understand.  "  We're  Confed- 
erates, and  they  have  gone  to  war  with  us.  We 
comH  go  to  New  York." 

He  made  no  reply,  except  to  shake  his  head. 
He  sat  facing  them,  but  not  looking  at  them. 
His  hands  w-ere  clasped  on  the  table.  There 
was  a  period  of  silence.  At  first  sheer  incre- 
dulity had  held  Celia  quiet,  but  now  this  was 
wearing  away  and  her  excitement  increased 
with  every  moment. 

"  Are  you  a  coward.  Captain  Carver  ? "  she 
burst  out  at  last.     "  Were  you  so  frightened  by 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  53 

three  shots  out  of  an  old  iron  cannon  that  you 
don't  care  what  becomes  of  us  ? " 

He  made  no  reply,  not  even  by  raising  his 
eyes,  not  by  a  twitch  of  his  muscles  or  a  quiver 
in  his  regular  breathing.  It  would  have  lessened 
her  anger  to  have  seen  that  her  words  hurt.  His 
silence  goaded  her  further. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  we  haven't  understood. 
Perhaps  you're  waiting  —  " 

Then  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  they  checked  the 
w^ords  that  were  on  her  lips. 

Martin  slowly  got  to  his  feet.  "  Good  night, 
Mrs.  Townley,"  he  said,  and  then  went  up  on  deck. 

She  took  the  girl  in  her  arms  and  tried  to 
cjuiet  her.  "Whatever  they  do  to  us  we  can 
show  them  that  even  Southern  women  are  braver 
than  they  are." 

Celia  drew  herself  up  quickly.  "  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  that,"  she  said.  "  I  suppose  they  will 
do  all  they  can  think  of.  They're  cowards,  and 
they'll  delight  to  torment  a  couple  of  women. 
We'll  be  tarred  and  feathered,  perhaps.  You 
won't  care  what  they  do,   will    you,    mother  ? " 

She  tried  to  play  the  role  of  comforter  her- 
self, but  presently  her  voice  caught,  and  her  lips 
quivered,  and  her  head  w^ent  back  to  its  place 
in  her  mother's  lap. 

"  He's  just  a  Yankee,  after  all,  Mummy,"  she 
said. 


CHAPTER   IV 

Three  days  later,  when  the  Soidhern  Cross  had 
passed  the  Narrows  and  was  towing  up  New 
York  Bay,  the  steward  knocked  at  Mrs.  Town- 
ley's  door  and  said  Mr.  Carver  would  like  to  see 
her. 

"  Very  well,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  will  come  in 
a  moment."  She  turned  a  little  pale  and  looked 
over  toward  Celia. 

"  ril  go  \Y\i\\  you,"  said  she.  "  It  can't  be 
so  very  bad.  Mummy.  And  it  will  be  better  to 
know  what  is  going  to  happen  to  us  than  to  go 
on  wondering  as  we've  done  for  three  days." 

They  had  not  seen  Martin  since  that  evening, 
off  the  coast  of  North  Carolina,  when  he  had 
told  them  that  he  would  have  to  take  them  to 
New  York  with  him.  They  came  out  into  the 
cabin  now,  as  coldly,  as  proudly,  as  in  the  days 
of  the  Terror  the  grand  ladies  of  France  had 
gone  to  the  guillotine.  Celia  came  first,  her  eyes 
fixed  straight  ahead  of  her.  She  would  have 
scorned  to  lower  them,  but  she  hoped  they  might 
avoid  an  encounter  with  Martin  Carver.  Instead 
of  him  she  saw  a  white-haired  old  gentleman, 
who    bowed   ceremoniously   to  her  and   to    her 

54 


THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS  55 

mother  as  Martin,  from  somewhere  —  Celia 
would  not  look  —  introduced  him  as  his  father. 
The  captain  then  excused  himself,  and  as  in  leav- 
ing the  room  he  passed  through  Celia's  field  of 
vision  and  he  looked  at  her,  she —  she  could  not 
do  it  —  dropped  her  eyes.  When  she  looked 
up  at  the  old  gentleman  again,  Martin  was  gone. 

He  looked  like  Martin's  father.  Twenty  years 
of  good  living  on  land  had  not  entirely  obliter- 
ated the  lean,  rugged  Carver  look  he  had  about 
him.  His  eyes  were  like  Martin's,  cool,  gray, 
purposeful,  but  along  with  the  likeness  there 
was  a  marked  difference.  And  there  Celia 
stopped  with  a  blush,  realizing  whom  she  was 
comparing  him  with,  and  began  to  listen  to  what 
he  was  saying. 

"  No  doubt  it  seems  a  calamity  to  you,  but  we 
shall  do  what  we  can  to  make  it  as  light  as  pos- 
sible. It  probably  will  not  be  long  before  we 
can  send  you  back  to  your  friends ;  in  the  mean- 
while we  shall  try  to  take  their  places.  You 
are  to  leave  all  the  responsibility  of  the  affair  to 
me.  It  was  my  error  which  caused  the  accident, 
and  it  shall  be  my  first  concern  to  repair  it. 
Our  home  will  be  yours  until  then." 

Mrs.  Townley  had  plenty  of  self-control,  but 
the  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  which  the  import 
of  Mr.  Carver's  words  brought  her  almost  made 
her  giddy.     Until  now  they  had  been  standing. 


56  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

The  old  gentleman  cast  a  quick  glance  at  her  and 
placed  a  cliair  for  her.  "  I  hope,"  he  said  with 
grave  concern,  '^  that  my  son  made  it  quite  clear 
to  3^ou  that  you  had  notliing  to  ai)prehend  beyond 
a  vexatious  delay  in  reaching  home."  The  faces 
of  both  the  women  made  part  of  the  trutli  clear 
to  him  ;  and  without  waiting  for  words  he  went 
on,  "  He  did  it  in  a  lubberly  way,  no  doubt,  but 
you  must  try  to  forgive  him." 

They  thanked  him  as  well  as  their  bewildered 
condition  would  allow",  and  protested  that  they 
could  not  consider  imposing  upon  his  hospitality 
as  he  suggested.  "  Well,  well,"  said  he,  "  Mrs. 
Carver  shall  urge  that  matter.  I  expect  her  to 
be  w^aiting  at  the  wharf  for  us.  I  sent  her  w^ord 
as  soon  as  the  ship  was  signalled.  She  is  ab- 
surdly anxious  about  that  precious  boy  of  hers." 

He  insisted  that  they  go  on  deck,  for  they  were 
missing  something  that  they  should  see.  "  I  have 
sailed  into  all  the  great  harbors  in  the  world," 
he  said,  "  and  I  know  few  more  beautiful  than 
this." 

Going  on  deck  meant  an  almost  unavoidable 
encounter  with  Martin,  but  that  must  come  soon 
in  any  event.  He  bowed  gravely  when  they 
came  in  view,  but  did  not  join  them  until  his 
father  summoned  him.  Celia  watched  his  prog- 
ress across  the  deck  with  a  good  deal  of  embar- 
rassment, but    for    all   that    she    was    distinctly 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  57 

disappointed  when  her  mother  almost  literally 
threw  herself  between  them  and  carried  the  cap- 
tain off,  leaving  her  undisturbed  to  listen  to  old 
Mr.  Carver's  talk  and  to  see  the  sights  he  was 
pointing  out  to  her.  She  almost  wished  that  her 
mother  had  been  a  little  less  successful. 

Her  attention  wandered  from  Mr.  Carver's 
talk,  and  seeing  that,  he  ceased,  though  not 
abruptly,  to  make  any  demands  on  it. 

A  ferry-boat,  bound  for  Jersey  City,  crossed 
under  their  stern  and  Celia,  looking  down  into  it, 
had  her  thoughts  brought  sharply  back  to  her 
present  surroundings. 

"  Soldiers  !  "  she  cried.  Her  eyes  brightened 
for  an  instant  with  a  simple  girlish  delight  in 
the  military.  They  w^ere  not  very  soldierly  sol- 
diers yet,  this  first  regiment  of  New  Hampshire 
Volunteers,  but  the  uniforms,  the  colors,  the 
blare  of  the  band  all  were  here.  Whistles  were 
screaming  a  wild  salute  to  them,  and  six  or  seven 
of  the  Southern  Cross's  crew  jumped  into  the 
rigging  at  sight  of  the  flag  and  cheered  it  lustily. 

But  the  color  which  had  kindled  in  the  girl's 
face  and  the  light  in  her  eyes  faded  quickly. 
She  remembered  against  whom  those  men  were 
going  forth  to  fight.  "  Soldiers,"  she  repeated 
softly. 

The  old  man  had  been  watching  her  uncon- 
scious face.     Now  he  turned  and  angrily  sum- 


58  TEAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

moned  the  men  down  from  tlie  shrouds. 
"  Fools  !  "  he  said.  "  They  cheer.  When  I  was 
a  boy  I  saw  the  battle-field  at  New  Orleans 
when  it  was  three  days  old.  I  have  never 
cheered  soldiers  since." 

He  paused.  Some  great  passion  was  at  work 
behind  his  dark  old  face,  and  in  a  moment  it 
burst  forth.  His  arm  swept  over  the  city. 
"  They  don't  know  what  it  means,"  he  cried. 
"They  have  run  into  it  like  sheep,  herded  by  a 
pack  of  mad  abolitionist  curs." 

Celia  looked  at  him,  wide-eyed.  "  Do  many 
people  in  the  North  feel  that  way  about  it  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Not  many,  since  Sumter,"  he  answered  dryly. 
A  flag  at  half-mast  caught  his  eye,  and  he 
pointed  to  it.  "  That  is  for  Colonel  Ellsworth. 
They  buried  him  yesterday.  He  was  the 
first." 

Then  he  abandoned  the  subject  abruptly  and 
again  showed  her  the  sights  they  were  passing, 
and  Celia,  if  she  only  half  heard,  at  least  kept 
up  the  appearance  of  listening. 

She  was  still  trying  to  realize  what  had 
happened  and  where  she  was,  and  the  attempt 
had  not  as  yet  met  with  more  than  indifferent 
success.  Until  her  father's  unexpected  arrival 
in  London  had  set  this  wild  dance  to  going,  she 
had  lived  all  her  life  according  to  plan.     Things 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  59 

had  happened  as  it  had  been  expected  they  would 
happen,  and  after  long  prevision  had  made  ready 
the  way  for  them.  Since  then  events  had  been 
as  fantastic,  as  inconsequent,  as  anything  that 
could  have  happened  in  a  dream.  The  long 
voyage  in  the  Southern  Cross  never  seemed  real ; 
then  her  welcome  home  —  the  little  river  steamer 
she  had  made  so  many  excursions  in,  coming  out 
and  firing  cannon  shots  at  her  —  would  have 
been  ridiculous  if  it  had  not  seemed  so  tragic  ; 
and  now,  at  last,  the  coming  into  captivity  to 
find  the  enemy  effusively  friendly  put  the  cap  of 
absurdity  upon  the  whole  affair.  And  yet  it  was 
all  very  grim  earnest. 

Mrs.  Carver  was  the  first  person  to  come  aboard 
after  the  Southern  Cross  was  alongside  her  wharf, 
and  here  Celia  found  what  would  have  been  a 
fresh  surprise  had  she  been  in  a  state  of  mind 
where  anything  could  surprise  her.  She  was  a 
gentle  little  lady,  with  gray  hair  and  a  sweet 
voice,  and  there  was  no  resisting  her.  Going  to 
live  with  her  —  a  perfect  stranger  —  seemed 
somehow  a  perfectly  natural  thing  to  do  when 
she  invited  them. 

In  ten  minutes  Mrs.  Townley  and  Celia  were 
in  love  with  her.  And  when  Mrs.  Carver,  laying 
her  hand  proudly  on  her  son's  arm,  said,  "  I  hope 
my  big  boy  has  made  your  long  voj^age  as  com- 
fortable as  possible,"  Celia  blushed  to  the  hair. 


60  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

What  would  this  gentle  lady  think  when  she 
knew  of  that  scene  in  the  cabin,  and  of  those 
last  three  days  whicli  had  succeeded  it  ?  Ap- 
parently Martin  had  not  told  his  father  of  it 
yet.  Was  it  possible  that  he  would  not  tell 
at  all  ? 

There  were  no  half-tones  in  Celia's  judgments ; 
they  were  all  done  in  black  or  white,  and  it  really 
seemed  as  though  the  course  of  things  had  turned 
her  from  one  extreme  to  the  other  and  back 
again,  just  for  the  purpose  of  mocking  her.  Any- 
way, this  much  was  clear  to  her,  that  she  owed 
Martin  an  apology.  It  would  not  be  a  very  effu- 
sive one.  Somehow  she  still  felt  some  resentment 
against  him,  owed  him  a  grudge.  Not  for  having 
brought  her  to  New  York ;  she  saw  now  that  he 
couldn't  have  done  anything  else,  and  she  was 
not  very  sorry  either  that  her  voyage  was  leading 
her  through  such  adventures.  But  he  had  de- 
ceived her,  —  that  was  what  it  came  to,  —  he  had 
allowed  her  uncontradicted  to  think  the  most 
ridiculous  things  about  himself,  his  family,  his 
Yankee  neighbors.  She  had  never  told  him  what 
she  thought,  to  be  sure,  but  he  might  have  known. 
He  might  have  denied  in  so  many  words  that  his 
father  was  a  beast,  his  neighbors  a  frenzied  mob 
who  would  tear  her  and  her  mother  limb  from 
limb  as  soon  as  they  stepped  ashore.  Well,  not 
that  exactly,  but  anyway  he  ought  to  have  done 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  61 

something.  Celia  seldom  had  any  difficulty  in 
"  making  a  case,"  but  this  against  Martin  did 
not  seem  to  prosper.  Slie  left  it  for  the  present 
and  came  back  to  the  conversation  of  the  others. 

u  Why  isn't  Winthrop  here  ?  "  Mr.  Carver  was 
asking. 

"  I  sent  your  messenger  on  to  find  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Carver.  "  He  won't  be  long  after  he  knows 
that  Martin  has  come  home.  But  I  don't  think 
we  need  wait  for  him,"  she  went  on,  turning  to 
Martin.  "  He  can  find  you  at  home  if  you're  not 
here." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  go  up  with  you,"  said  Martin. 
"  I've  a  good  deal  of  work  down  here  before  I  can 
get  away.  I'll  try  to  be  up  to  dinner,  but  I  can't 
promise  even  that." 

"  Then  you  have  an  incompetent  mate,"  said 
John  Carver,  "  and  Mr.  Jones  has  never  been 
called  that.     Can't  come  to  dinner  !     Nonsense  !  " 

"  We'll  take  you  home  at  once,"  his  wife  said 
to  Mrs.  Townley  and  Celia.  "  You  must  be  very 
tired.  Oh,  you  needn't  bring  anything  at  all. 
Martin  will  have  all  your  things  sent  up." 

While  they  were  preparing  to  leave  the  ship, 
Celia  tried  to  get  an  opportunity  to  make  her 
apology  to  Martin.  She  was  only  going  to  say, 
"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Captain  Carver."  That 
would  be  ample  justice.  But  the  opportunity 
even  for  that  did  not  come.     Their  light  hand- 


62  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

baggage  was  brouglit  up  on  deck,  and  a  sailor 
carried  it  asliore.  ]\Ir.  Carver  was  already  leading 
Mrs.  Townley  down  the  gang-plank.  Mrs.  Carver 
took  her  arm  and  started  with  her.  But  she  was 
determined  to  make  that  apology  before  her 
case  against  Martin  was  undermined  any  further. 

"  Here  comes  Winthrop,"  said  Mr.  Carver. 
"  Come  along,  hoy,  you  were  almost  too  late." 

The  other  three  were  hesitating  halfway  down 
the  plank,  Martin  still  standing  at  the  head  of  it. 
Celia  turned  resolutely  and  hurried  back.  The 
others  were  coming  back,  too,  but  more  slowly. 

She  stepped  in  front  of  Martin  and  held  out 
her  hand.  For  some  reason  she  looked  up  into 
his  face  before  she  spoke  the  little  formula  she 
had  on  her  tongue.  She  stood  so  for  an  instant, 
silent.  The  formula  had  fled.  Then,  "  I'm 
sorry,"  she  said,  not  very  steadily.  "  Will  you 
please  forgive  me  again  ?  " 

"  My  son,  Winthrop,  Miss  Townley,"  said  Mrs. 
Carver. 

Winthrop  made  the  fourth  in  the  carriage  when 
they  drove  home,  Mr.  Carver  having  offered  some 
urgent  business  at  his  counting-house  as  an 
unconscious  excuse  for  an  uninterrupted  hour 
with  Martin,  and  it  was  due  to  this  fact, 
perhaps,  that  Celia's  first  impression  of  the  city 
was  so  vague.  Winthrop  was  fully  as  interest- 
ing as  Broadway,  and  much  more  so  than  any 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  63 

of  the  other  streets  they  saw.  He  was  not  a 
Carver  at  all,  she  thought.  He  was  smaller, 
handsomer,  more  agile,  alert,  compact,  than  his 
father  or  Martin ;  and  though  Celia  did  not  phrase 
it  in  just  this  way,  she  was  soon  aware  that 
these  differences  were  mental  as  well  as  physical. 

She  and  her  mother  liked  him  at  once.  He 
did  more  to  make  them  feel  that  they  were 
among  their  own  kind  of  people  than  any  of  the 
others,  even  Mrs.  Carver  herself,  had  so  far  been 
able  to  do.  His  manners  were  more  like  their 
own,  fairly  effusive  as  compared  with  Mr.  Car- 
ver's or  Martin's.  He  paid  them  all  the  easy, 
obvious,  direct  compliments  which  Northern  men 
of  intelligence  seldom  indulge  in,  but  which  are 
simply  good  manners  in  the  South.  It  was  he 
who  disposed  of  their  last  protest  against  being 
forced  to  impose  on  the  Carvers'  hospitality. 

"  If  the  old  Cross  had  kept  you  a  month  longer 
crossing  the  ocean,  you  wouldn't  have  felt  that 
you  were  indebted  to  us  for  our  hospitality, 
would  you  ?  "  he  asked  laughingly.  "  Well,  it 
comes  to  exactly  the  same  thing.  You  must 
pretend  that  you  aren't  in  any  hurry  at  all,  that 
you're  having  a  fine  time,  and  will  be  sorry  when 
it's  all  over.  And  we  have  to  pretend,  I  suppose, 
that  we're  trying  our  very  best  to  get  rid  of  you 
and  pack  you  off  to  your  friends.  Of  course, 
we're  only  human  and  we  may  not  be  trying  as 


64  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

hard  as  we  seem  to  be.  But  wliatever  you  sus- 
pect, you  won't  be  allowed  to  complain." 

The  carriage  pulled  up  before  a  large  house  on 
an  old-fashioned  but  still  fashionable  square. 
There  was  nothing  about  the  outside  of  it  to 
reward  Celiacs  curious  glance,  for  it  was  exactly 
like  scores — hundreds — of  others  they  had  passed 
on  the  w^ay,  and  for  the  present  it  was  evident 
also  that  she  must  content  herself  with  only  the 
most  cursory  acquaintance  with  the  interior. 
Mrs.  Carver  was  sure  they  must  be  tired,  —  and 
as  regarded  Mrs.  Townley,  she  w^as  quite  right ; 
their  rooms  were  all  ready  for  them  and  they 
might  rest  undisturbed  until  dinner-time. 

"  I  haven't  thought  to  ask  before,"  said  Mrs. 
Townley,  "  everything  has  been  so  surprising 
that  I  have  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  —  but 
how  did  you  know  we  were  coming  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Carver  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Odell  telling 
us  you  had  sailed.  The  President  proclaimed 
North  Carolina  under  blockade  the  twenty-second 
of  last  month,  so  w^e  knew  you  couldn't  get  in 
there,  or  that  if  you  did  Martin  couldn't  get  out. 
We  thought  he  would  bring  you  here,  and  when 
they  signalled  the  Southern  Cross,  we  were  almost 
sure  you  would  be  aboard.  Everything  has  been 
ready  for  you  here  for  two  weeks.  But  I'll  not 
keep  you  talking  any  longer.  You  must  have 
your  rest." 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  65 

Celia  did  not  much  want  to  go  —  there  were 
still  too  many  things  to  see  and  hear  about  —  but 
she  went  along  obediently  with  her  mother. 
She  found  she  was  tired  after  the  excitement 
began  to  wear  off,  and  she  also  found  the  soli- 
tary hours  of  value  in  that  they  made  it  possible 
to  "  take  an  observation "  as  she  phrased  it, 
proud  of  her  newly  acquired  nautical  phraseology. 
She  had  a  good  many  matters  to  consider. 

She  was  dressed  for  dinner  a  little  before  her 
mother,  and  she  went  dow^n  to  the  library,  where 
Mrs.  Carver  had  told  her  the  family  assembled, 
alone.  It  was  a  big  room,  —  the  wdiole  second 
floor  of  the  addition  at  the  rear  of  the  house ; 
one  entered  it  from  a  landing  halfway  up  the 
stairway  in  the  main  hall. 

In  one  of  the  window^  recesses  she  saw  a 
man's  figure.  He  was  staring  out,  and  some 
other  sound  in  the  house  had  prevented  his  hear- 
ing the  rustle  of  her  skirt.  The  w^ell-remembered 
outline  of  his  back  w^as  all  she  saw  of  him.  For 
an  instant  she  stood  still. 

She  had  hoped  he  might  be  waiting  for  her, 
waiting  to  tell  her  whether  he  had  forgiven  her 
—  again  —  or  not. 

When  she  moved  again  he  heard  her  and 
swung  around.  The  thought  that  he  had, 
for  some  reason,  shaved  his  beard  had  almost 
time  to  form  in  her  mind  before  she  saw  that 


66  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

this  was  not  Martin  at  all,  but  Winthrop.  She 
gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  startled  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
shouldn't  have  moved  so  quickly.  I  was  rumi- 
nating alone,  and  I  guess  I  was  a  little  startled 
myself." 

He  was  a  Carver  now  that  neither  his  father 
nor  his  brother  was  by  to  serve  as  a  standard 
for  comparison.  She  wondered  how  she  could 
have  thought  him  small. 

She  was  disappointed,  of  course,  but  it  would 
not  do  to  punish  him  on  that  account.  It  was 
easy  to  fall  into  talk  with  him,  the  kind  of  talk 
she  was  well  accustomed  to,  and  by  dinner-time, 
when  Martin  and  his  father  really  did  come  in, 
they  were  already  on  very  friendly  terms. 

That  this  first  dinner  did  not  prove  a  little 
stiff  and  uncomfortable  was  due  more  perhaps 
to  Winthrop  than  to  any  one  else.  Every  one 
at  the  table  had  tact  of  the  negative  sort  which 
avoids  treading  forbidden  ground  and  touching 
tender  places,  but  when  conversation  threatened 
to  flag  under  this  rigorous  editing,  it  was  almost 
always  Winthrop  who  set  the  ball  in  motion 
again. 

Nevertheless,  the  one  small  hitch  that  occurred 
was  clearly  his  own  doing. 

"Do  you  still  sail  the  Kate?''  Martin  had 
asked  him. 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  67 

"  Are  you  a  sailor,  too  ? "  Celia  demanded 
before  he  had  time  to  reply.  "  Are  you  captain 
of  something  ?  " 

Winthrop  laughed.  "No,"  he  said,  "I'm  just 
a  common  landsman,  the  one  landsman  of  the 
Carver  family.  They  haven't  had  a  disgrace 
like  me  for  three  generations." 

Celia  vv^as  conscious  that  both  old  Mr.  Carver 
and  his  wife  made  a  little  movement,  he  of  im- 
patience, she  of  protest ;  but  before  either  could 
speak,  Winthrop  went  on  :  — 

"  No,  the  Kate  was  only  a  small  but  vicious 
cat-boat  that  I  used  to  spend  my  holidays  in. 
But  she  made  so  many  attempts  on  my  life  that 
it  grew  to  be  a  bore.  I  sold  her  last  year,  and 
now  I  sail  in  a  small  ark  of  a  cutter  that — well, 
I  guess  she'd  even  suit  you,  Martin." 

"  Winthrop  w^ould  have  me  capsize  the  Centaur 
or  the  Southern  Gross,  just  as  he  used  to  roll  over 
in  the  Kate  once  or  twice  a  week.  He  thinks 
I'm  over  cautious  because  I  don't.  Oh,  you 
won't  be  able  to  make  him  see  the  difference, 
Mrs.  Townley.     He's  determined  not  to." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Celia  understood  all 
that  those  words  of  Winthrop's  signified  to  his 
father  and  his  mother,  all  that  he  meant  by  them 
himself,  but  here,  perhaps,  is  the  best  place  to 
set  it  down  in  order. 

Winthrop  had  had  no  hand  in  the  selection  of 


68  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

his  career;  llie  great  Christinas  storm  of  '53 
had  decided  the  matter  for  him.  Up  to  that 
time  the  beautiful  fleet  of  Wliite  C  clippers  — 
they  were  named,  all  of  them,  from  the  stars  or 
constellations,  /Southern  Cross,  Ue?itanr,  Capella, 
Cj/gnus,  Castor,  Corona  B  or  calls  —  had  never 
known  a  disaster.  But  in  that  storm  the  ship 
Cajpella,  homeward  bound  and  nearly  home, 
went  down  with  all  on  board,  and  carried  w^th 
her  the  bodies  of  the  two  elder  sons,  John  and 
Perry  Carver. 

Their  mother  had  said  good-by  to  them  once, 
as  only  a  year  before  to  Martin  also,  bravely,  as 
became  the  wife  of  an  old  sailor.  She  had  seen 
that  they  must  go,  that  their  father's  stories  of 
the  sea,  that  the  sight  so  often  before  their  eyes 
of  the  great  three  skysail  yarders  of  the  fleet  mak- 
ing harbor  or  putting  to  sea,  that  the  very  blood 
in  their  veins,  all  called  them  imperiously  to  the 
blue  water. 

But  Winthrop  she  had  always  hoped  to  keep, 
and  after  this  disaster  John  Carver  and  his  wife 
came  to  an  express  agreement  that,  though 
Martin  should  go  on  as  he  had  begun,  Winthrop's 
life,  whatever  happened,  should  not  be  staked  in 
that  perilous  wager  with  death. 

As  for  him,  certainly  it  w^as  pleasanter  to  go 
to  Harvard,  to  be  free,  to  have  congenial  com- 
panions and  plenty  of  money  than  it  would  have 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  69 

been  to  follow  Martin's  arduous  course  "  over  the 
bows." 

That  was  very  well  while  it  lasted,  but  many 
a  time  since  he  had  graduated  in  '60  and  tried  to 
settle  down  to  the  study  of  law  he  wished  he 
had  gone  to  sea,  to  California,  that  his  work  was 
anything  but  what  it  was.  He  and  his  father 
no  longer  fitted  together  comfortably  in  the  close 
quarters  of  their  small  family. 

Winthrop's  mind  was  of  the  impractically 
idealistic  sort  which  absorbs  revolutionary  ideas 
with  extraordinary  avidity,  and  the  friends  he 
had  made  at  Harvard  and  about  Boston  had 
encouraged  rather  than  checked  this  tendency  in 
him.  So  he  brought  home  a  set  of  opinions 
regarding  abolition  and  "  nigger  equality  "  which 
his  father  regarded  as  impious  and  incendiary. 
Winthrop  kept  them  to  himself  as  well  as  he 
could,  but  as  the  old  man,  who  could  see  half  an 
inch  into  a  solid  plank,  speedily  divined  them,  it 
might  have  been  better  if  they  had  threshed  the 
whole  matter  out  and  come  to  an  understanding. 

Winthrop,  on  his  part,  had  divined  something, 
too ;  namely,  that  his  father  regarded  him  as 
of  rather  softer  metal  than  his  brothers,  as 
an  effeminate  creature  who  was  not  to  be 
reckoned  with  in  the  serious  affairs  of  life.  The 
old  man  himself  was  hardly  aware  of  the  exist- 
ence of  this  contempt ;  he  never  dreamed   that 


70  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

he  was  expressing  it  in  a  phrase,  or  in  a  more 
significant  silence,  every  day. 

But  Winthrop  understood  all  too  well,  and  as 
time  went  on  and  he  grew  more  sensitive  to  it, 
the  sting  grew  more  nearly  intolerable.  It  was 
this  rather  than  the  irksomeness  of  his  law 
studies  which  had  driven  him  to  his  reckless 
sport  in  the  Kate.  The  pleasure  of  reaching 
along  in  a  gale,  of  shipping  half  a  sea  every  now 
and  then  into  his  crazy  little  craft,  was  the  only 
one  which  could  salve  the  hurts  his  father  uncon- 
sciously inflicted.  Since  he  had  sold  the  Kate, 
at  a  tearful  entreaty  from  his  mother,  he  had 
been  denied  even  that. 

It  was  she  who  held  this  ill-assorted  pair 
together.  For  her  the  old  man  tried  to  tone 
down,  if  not  to  silence,  his  savage  outbursts 
against  the  ideals  and  the  leaders  Winthrop  had 
made  his  own,  and  for  her  Winthrop  had  made 
an  even  greater  sacrifice. 

Sumter  and  the  call  for  volunteers  were 
almost  more  than  he  could  bear.  A  dozen  times 
he  told  her  he  must  go. 

Her  answer  always  was,  "  You  must  go,  of 
course,  when  your  country  needs  you.  But  you 
will  cut  the  link  between  you  and  your  father  if 
you  go.  It  will  break  up  our  home.  So  do  not 
go  until  you  are  sure  the  time  has  come.  I  am 
praying  it  may  never  come." 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS  71 

And,  as  yet,  Winthrop  had  not  gone. 

Of  course  only  the  merest  fraction  of  this 
situation  was  even  guessed  at  by  Celia.  But  she 
saw,  even  in  the  good-natured  talk  about  the 
table,  that  there  was  a  rift  in  the  relations 
between  Winthrop  and  his  father,  and  Win- 
throp's  speech  about  being  a  landsman  gave  her 
just  enough  of  a  hint  to  waken  her  sympathies 
for  him. 

She  would  have  had  less  inclination  for  specu- 
lating over  the  riddle  had  Martin  been  less 
absorbed  with  his  father.  She  said  to  herself 
that  she  did  not  expect  him  to  be  anything  else, 
of  course,  but  still  her  determination  to  be  very 
nice  to  poor  Mr.  Winthrop  was  strengthened  a 
little  by  the  fact  that  during  that  first  evening 
Martin  had  not  made  a  chance  for  a  quiet  word 
quite  alone  with  her. 


PART  II 

MONDAY,   JULY  TWENTY-SECOND 


CHAPTER   V 

When  the  Townleys  arrived  in  New  York, 
within  a  day  or  two  of  the  first  of  June,  the  first 
convulsion  of  anger,  the  fierce  excitement  which 
all  over  the  North  had  followed  the  attack  on 
Sumter,  had  subsided.  New  York  city  had  had 
its  full  share  of  this  excitement :  it  had  deliri- 
ously welcomed  the  Sixth  Massachusetts  when  it 
went  through  the  city  on  its  way  to  the  front, 
via  Baltimore ;  it  had  sent  oif  its  own  darling 
Seventh ;  it  had  heard  the  chimes  in  Trinity 
steeple  playing  Yankee  Doodle ;  it  had  packed 
as  much  of  its  great  self  as  possible  into  Union 
Square  to  hear  the  silver-haired  Senator  Baker, 
with  his  flaming  tongue,  pleading  that  they 
avenge  the  flag ;  it  had  agonized  during  those 
interminable  hours  when  no  word  came  from 
Washington ;  it  had  joined  full  voiced  in  the  cry 
of  the  whole  North  that  chastisement  should  be 
dealt  out  speedily  and  with  no  faltering  hand. 

But  by  the  end  of  May  had  begun  the  inevi- 
table quieting  down.  The  regiments  which  New 
England  was  still  pouring  through  the  streets,  the 
arming  of  ferry-boats,  tugs,  anything  which 
moved  by  steam  for  service  in  the  blockade,  the 

75 


76  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

roar  of  the  cupolas  when  they  were  casting 
cannon,  the  beating  of  the  ploughshare  into  the 
sword,  all  the  grim  business  which  could  be 
seen  going  forward  on  every  hand,  had  fallen  into 
a  routine  of  its  own,  and  the  stupendous  fact  of 
war,  though  still  unrealized,  began  to  be  taken  as 
a  matter  of  course. 

In  the  Carver  family,  however,  this  readjust- 
ment had  not  taken  place.  The  tension  was 
great,  almost  unbearable ;  the  feeling  was  in  the 
air  that  before  very  long  something  must  break. 

It  arose,  of  course,  between  the  old  man  and 
his  younger  son.  There  was  a  strong  bond 
between  them ;  the  strain  would  be  terrible  be- 
fore it  would  be  broken,  but  break  it  must  some 
day. 

John  Carver's  ideas  about  the  war,  which  had 
so  astonished  Celia,  had,  up  to  the  attack  on 
Sumter,  been  held  by  many  conservative  men 
through  all  the  North,  and  in  New  York  city  by 
a  really  considerable  proportion  of  the  "solid 
men."  That  Carver  himself  had  not  been  swept 
away  in  the  mighty  wave  of  the  fourteenth  of 
April,  the  wave  which  carried  along  the  strong 
and  silenced  the  timorous,  was,  after  all,  natural 
enough  when  one  considers  the  sort  of  man  he 
was. 

All  the  forces  that  played  upon  nim  drew 
in  one    direction.     He  had  gone  his  own  way, 


MONDAY,    JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  77 

followed  his  own  judgment,  taking  the  chances 
it  approved,  and  the  event  had  always  justified 
the  course  he  had  taken.  He  had,  indeed,  learned 
to  obey  once,  but  ever  since  that  remote  day 
he  had  exacted  obedience  to  his  own  absolute 
authority ;  it  had  been  paid  him  by  his  crews, 
his  clerks,  his  captains,  and  his  four  lean,  big- 
jawed  sons.  In  all  those  years  he  never  felt  dis- 
cipline, either  from  men  or  events. 

To  such  a  man,  slavery  could  hardly  seem 
wicked ;  he  was  too  well  accustomed  to  it  under 
another  name.  Add  to  this  the  fact  that  he 
never  wasted  his  time  with  abstract  questions, 
that  he  had  many  friends  and  a  great  deal  of 
trade  through  the  South,  that,  like  the  true,  con- 
servative, successful  man  of  commerce  that  he 
was,  he  made  an  idol  of  "  things  as  they  are,"  and 
it  will  be  readily  understood  how  the  ten  years 
of  anti-slavery  agitation  before  the  war  infuriated 
him,  and  how  intolerably  bitter  it  was  that  his 
son  should  be  heart  and  soul  with  the  agitators. 
And  when  his  mind  was  fully  made  up,  his  sym- 
pathies fully  enlisted,  he  was  not  to  be  moved. 

On  Monday  morning,  July  twenty-second,  the 
boy  who  delivered  John  Carver's  daily  paper  left, 
by  mistake,  the  Tribune  instead  of  the  Daily 
News^  a  fact  which  Mr.  Carver  discovered  when 
he  opened  it  in  the  bus  on  his  way  to  his  ofSce. 
As  he  read  the  black  headlines  his  face  dark- 


78  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

ened.  He  crumpled  the  paper  together,  but  in  a 
moment  he  opened  it  again  and  ))egan  reading. 

It  announced  a  great  victory  of  the  Union 
arms  the  day  before  at  Bull  Run,  the  greatest 
battle  that  had  ever  been  fought  on  the  American 
continent.  It  gave  the  details  of  the  fierce  strug- 
gle, the  rout  of  the  disunion  forces,  told  that 
General  Beauregard  had  sent  McDowell  a  flag 
of  truce  which  the  Federal  general  had  refused 
to  receive  unless  it  offered  an  unconditional  sur- 
render. 

There  w^as  no  malice  in  John  Carver's  regret 
of  a  Union  victory.  The  South  had  a  right  to 
secede,  to  go  by  itself  if  it  chose.  Force  could 
not  bring  it  back.  A  temporary  success  for  the 
North  could  only  make  the  struggle  longer, 
costlier,  bloodier.  It  could  have  but  one  ending, 
and  he  hoped  the  end  would  come  soon.  The 
present  state  of  things,  if  prolonged,  meant 
ruin. 

His  own  business  was  at  a  standstill.  The 
Southern  Cross  and  the  Corona  were  tied  to  their 
wharves  unable  to  get  a  cargo,  practically  unable 
to  get  insurance,  since  Confederate  privateers 
were  scouring  the  seas  ready  to  pounce  upon 
and  make  prizes  of  them.  The  Centmor  was  due, 
overdue,  from  San  Francisco,  and  when  she 
came  in,  if  she  came  at  all,  her  case  would  be 
the   same.     Trade,  except  in   the  veriest  neces- 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  79 

sities,  was  paralyzed.  The  cotton-mills  would 
soon  be  closed.  And  now,  after  this  victory,  the 
North  might  keep  up  the  useless  struggle  for  six 
months.  President  Lincoln  was  already  enlist- 
ing soldiers  for  three  years,  but  no  one  but  the 
abolitionist  fanatics  could  expect  that  the  war 
would  last  as  long  as  that. 

There  lay  on  his  desk  a  letter  addressed  in  the 
familiar  hand  of  Mr.  Patrick  Odell ;  evidently 
this  week  there  was  something  beyond  the 
advices  which  regularly  came  from  his  head 
clerk.  As  soon  as  John  Carver,  with  a  certain 
leisurely  haste,  could  get  through  the  two  or 
three  duties  which  were  part  of  an  iron  routine 
with  him,  he  opened  and  read  it. 

It  opened  with  some  matters  of  rather  unim- 
portant business,  but  soon  proceeded  to  a  discus- 
sion of  the  war — guardedly,  of  course,  for  the 
writer  knew  well  how  sore  John  Carver  was  on 
the  subject. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  by  the  way,"  it  read, 
"  that  the  Southern  Cross  is  safe  in  port.  If  she 
had  sailed  a  month  later,  it  is  not  unlikely  that 
the  Sumter  would  have  got  her.  We  over  here 
have  heard  a  good  deal  of  her  achievements  in 
the  Caribbean,  and  are  wondering  what  the 
result  of  them  will  be.  I  hope  none  of  your 
other  ships  are  in  the  range  of  Semmes's  activi- 
ties.    Another  question  —  " 


80  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

John  Carver  laid  down  the  letter  and  looked 
thoughtfully  out  of  the  window.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  the  idea  had  been  suggested  to  him 
that  the  Sumter  might  be  accountable  for  the 
Centaurs  dela}^  in  reaching  port,  but  it  weighed 
heavier  now  with  him  than  it  had  before.  After 
a  few  minutes  he  shook  his  head  and  returned 
to  Mr.  OdelPs  letter. 

"  Another  question,  w^hicli  I  find  still  more 
interesting,  is  the  proposed  blockade  —  or  is  it  a 
real  thing  by  this  time  ?  It  is  a  heroic  idea,  at 
least,  this  blockading  of  a  thousand  miles  of 
coast.  No  one  but  an  American  could  have 
seriously  thought  of  such  a  thing.  That's  not 
saying  it  can't  be  done,  either.  But  when  it's 
done  —  that's  the  point. 

<'  Of  course  there  will  be  a  cotton  famine  over 
here,  and  the  spinners,  if  they  don't  starve  to 
death,  will  at  least  get  thinner  than  foxes.  And 
we  shall  see  cotton  bringing  anywdiere  from 
sixpence  to  tw^o  shillings  a  pound  in  Liverpool. 
It  may  bring  almost  anything.  But  do  you  see 
the  other  side  of  it  ?  What  will  cotton  be  worth 
on  the  wharf  in  Charleston,  shut  up  inside  of  the 
blockade  ?  Anything  you  choose  to  give  for  it. 
And  wdiat  would  shoes  and  clothing  and  hard- 
w^are  be  worth,  lying  alongside  of  that  cotton  ? 
An3^thing  you  choose  to  ask  for  it. 

"  You  may  say  that  if   the  cotton    could   be 


MONDAY,    JULY   TWEXTY-SECOXD  81 


brought  out  it  wouldn't  be  cheap  and  if  the 
shoes  could  be  brought  in  they  wouldn't  be  dear, 
and  that  I'm  talking  a  contradiction  in  terms. 
That's  partly  true,  entirely  true,  so  far  as 
ordinary  ocean  carriers  go.  If  half  a  dozen 
cruisers  were  lying  off  every  Southern  harbor, 
neither  a  sailing  ship  nor  a  clums}-,  creaking, 
splashing  steamer  could  get  in  nor  out.  The 
ports  would  be  sufficiently  blockaded  and  the 
state  of  things  I  have  described  would  ensue. 

"  But  the  other  day  I  saw  on  the  Clyde  a  long, 
low,  thin  snake  of  a  craft  sliding  down  the  river 
as  quiet  as  a  ghost,  and  it  came  to  me  that  with 
the  aid  of  a  bold  man  and  a  dark  night  three 
times  in  four  she  could  get  through  any  blockade 
that  Mr.  Lincoln  can  make.  If  she  could  make 
it  three  times,  you  could  afford  to  lose  her  the 
fourth.  I  think  it  will  be  fully  as  profitable  as 
that.  It  will  be  easy  to  get  the  steamer  if  the 
occasion  arises.      The    trick  will  be  to  get  the 


man." 


There  was  more  to  the  letter,  but  Mr.  Carver 
had  paused  in  his  reading  and  was  again  frown- 
ing out  of  the  window,  w^hen  voices  in  his  outer 
office  and  the  tramp  of  many  feet  caught  his 
attention.  There  was  a  gruff  question,  an  answer 
from  one  of  his  clerks,  and  without  ceremony  the 
door  was  flung  open. 

"  Dearborn  !  "    cried    John    Carver.      The   un- 


82  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

wonted  informality  in  thus  addressing  a  captain 
was  as  significant  as  the  note  of  relief  in  his 
voice.  "  How  did  you  get  the  Centaur  in  without 
reporting  her  ?  " 

The  captain  had  stopped  a  pace  within  the 
door.  He  was  a  short,  solidly  built  man  with 
a  red  face  and  a  neck  like  a  bull's.  Indeed,  the 
resemblance  went  further,  for  he  stood  with  his 
head  thrust  forward  and  rolling  a  little  from 
side  to  side. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  man  ?  "  Carver 
demanded.     "  Why  wasn't  she  signalled  ?  " 

With  an  effort  Captain  Dearborn  met  his  com- 
mander's ej^es.  ''  She'll  never  be  signalled  again, 
sir,"  he  said.     "  She's  lost." 

"  You  lost  her  ?  You !  "  thundered  John 
Carver. 

"  She  was  took ! "  Dearborn's  voice  was 
shaking  with  anger  and  at  last  broke  away 
from  him.  "  She  was  took  by  a  crew  of 
damned  pirates.  They  burnt  her  —  may  they 
swing  from  a  yard  and  burn  in  hell  for  it ! 
They  burnt  her  !  " 

"  Stop  cursing,"  said  John  Carver,  "  and  tell 
me  what  you  mean.     Who  burnt  her  ?  " 

"  It  was  Semmes,  sir,  in  the  old  Hahana. 
They've  mounted  an  eight-inch  gun  on  her,  and 
they  call  her  the  Stomter.  They  sighted  us  not 
far  off  Barbadoes,  and  signalled  us  to  heave  to 


MONDAY,   JULY  TWENTY-SECOND  83 

with  a  solid  shot  across  our  bows.  It  was  near 
dark,  and  with  a  little  more  breeze  we'd  have 
given  her  the  slip.  But  the  breeze  fell  and  she 
came  up  with  us.  They  made  us  leave  her  and 
go  aboard  the  Sicmter,  and  then  they  took  what 
they  wanted  out  of  her  and  set  her  afire.  It 
was  dark  by  then  and  we  could  see  her  blazing 
for  miles.  They  tried  to  enlist  us  in  their  damned 
'  navy,'  as  they  call  it,  but  they  didn't  get  a 
man ;  so  they  took  our  parole  and  put  us  ashore 
at  San  Juan.  We  got  over  to  Havana  and  so 
up  here.  We've  all  come  back  together,  and 
we're  going  to  try  to  get  exchanged  so  we  can 
enlist  — regular  —  and  square  accounts  with  him. 
And  if  we  don't  get  exchanged  —  I  can't  speak 
for  anybody  but  myself,  but  much  good  may 
my  parole  do  him  !  " 

It  had  only  been  by  the  greatest  exercise  of 
self-control  that  Captain  Dearborn  had  been  ca- 
pable of  so  matter-of-fact,  consecutive  a  report, 
and  when,  as  he  finished,  he  saw  John  Carver 
fling  out  his  hand  in  a  furious  gesture,  his  own 
rage  against  the  Sumter  and  her  crew  burst  forth 
again,  volcanic,  lurid.  It  was  a  fine,  deep  anger, 
despite  its  facile  expression. 

But  the  look  in  John  Carver's  fierce  old  face 
checked  it  in  full  torrent.  "  They  are  not  to 
blame,"  he  cried.  He  had  risen  from  his  chair 
and  was  speaking  not  only  to  Dearborn  but  to 


84  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

the  little  group  —  the  three  mates  and  a  seaman 
or  two  from  the  Centaur  —  who  were  gathered 
in  the  open  doorway.  His  voice  vibrated  with 
a  perfectly  savage  intensity. 

"  They  are  not  to  blame.  I  have  seen  ships 
burn  myself,  yes,  and  have  burned  them.  Don't 
curse  them.  Curse  the  men  who  drove  them 
to  it.  Curse  the  cowardly  abolitionists  who 
started  this  war !  Curse  thein  with  all  your 
hearts ! " 

It  took  a  bold  man  to  say  such  words  aloud 
in  that  city  and  on  that  day.  They  rang  in  the 
ears  of  men  too  completely  astonished,  con- 
founded, to  understand  or  fully  to  credit  the 
understanding  when  it  came.  There  was  a 
moment  of  electrical  silence ;  then,  striding  two 
paces  nearer,  John  Carver  went  on  :  — 

"  Now,  take  that  as  you  like.  You  can  think 
what  you  please.  You  can  be  fools  if  you  please. 
But  understand  this.  The  man  —  master,  mate, 
or  seaman  —  who  enlists  in  the  navy  or  the  army 
either,  or  who  tries  to  enlist,  w411  never  sail 
under  my  flag  again." 

They  were  all  brave  men  in  that  little  group, 
but  they  lowered  their  eyes  and  gave  way  before 
this  onslaught.  Even  the  captain,  the  truculent 
captain,  could  not  find  his  voice.  It  was  not 
the  threat  that  produced  the  effect,  nor  the  sight 
—  the  towering  figure  and  the  blazing  eyes  —  of 


MONDAY,  JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  85 

him  who  uttered  it.  But  his  long  usage  of  author- 
ity, his  habit  of  command,  his  ^lace^  affected 
their  imagination  and  they  slunk  away  from 
him. 

All  but  one !  He  was  a  common  sailor, 
elected  by  his  mates  of  the  port  watch  to  help 
represent  the  crew  at  this  extraordinary  con- 
ference. Somehow  he  saw  things  in  a  simpler 
relation.  He  shouldered  forward,  past  the 
officers,  past  Captain  Dearborn  himself,  and 
stood  facing  old  John  Carver,  eye  to  eye.  He 
stretched  out  a  steady  hand  and  pointed  it  at 
his  face. 

"  You  damned  old  rebel ! "  he  cried,  "  do 
you  think  we  care  for  your  flag  ?  Go  sell  it  to 
Jeff  Davis.  We  sail  under  the  Stars  and 
Stripes !  " 

John  Carver  moved  as  if  to  strike  him.  Then 
his  arms  fell  at  his  side.  The  sailor  had  kept 
his  attitude  unchanged,  the  arm  outstretched, 
the  finger  pointing.  Then  he  straightened  back, 
spat  contemptuously  on  the  floor,  turned  on  his 
heel,  and  deliberately  made  his  way  to  the  street 
door. 

One  by  one,  in  silence,  the  others  followed  him, 
some  grinning  approval,  waiting  to  offer  him  a 
drink  when  they  got  outside,  but  the  others, 
the  men  of  long  service  in  the  fleet,  still  shame- 
faced, depressed,  avoiding  each  other's  eyes,  as 


86  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

though  tliey  had  witnessed  a  sacrilege.  The 
young  sailor  had  only  voiced  the  protest  that  had 
arisen  in  their  own  hearts,  but  still  they  steered 
away  from  him  in  the  street,  to  his  own  intense 
disgust. 

«  You're  all  secesh,  that's  the  matter  with  3^ou," 
he  growled.  There  was  no  hedge  of  divinity 
about  him,  certainly,  and,  w^ith  a  sob  of  relief, 
the  third  mate  knocked  him  down  out  of  hand. 

Left  alone,  after  dismissing  his  head  clerk,  who 
came  to  see  if  anything  had  gone  wrong,  John 
Carver  returned  to  his  desk  and  tried  to  I'ead  the 
rest  of  Mr.  Odell's  letter,  though  he  was  not  in 
condition  to  make  much  of  it. 

It  is  said,  with  some  appearance  of  authority, 
that  no  absolute  ruler  is  ever  really  sane ;  that 
his  abnormal  relations  with  his  fellow-humans 
destroys  the  balance  of  his  mind.  Some  such 
fact  as  this  may  account,  in  part,  for  John  Carver's 
state.  He  was  not  yet  an  old  man ;  with  his 
immense  vitality  he  ought  to  live  another  score 
of  years.  His  interest  was  as  fully  in  the  present 
and  the  future,  his  perception  was  as  quick,  his 
memory  as  automatic,  as  ever  it  had  been. 
But  surely  his  actions  this  morning  had  had  the 
marks  of  senility  on  them.  All  his  life  since  he 
came  to  manhood  he  had,  periodically,  given  way 
to  bursts  of  unrestrained  anger,  but  none  of  them 
had  ever  shaken  him  as  this  had.     For  it  was 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  87 

this  anger  and  the  young  sailor's  contumacy, 
rather  than  the  loss  of  his  ship,  that  affected  him 
most.  The  really  important  fact  he  as  yet 
hardly  realized. 

He  lost  track  of  the  time  as  he  sat  there  fum- 
bling over  his  letter  and  was  not  recalled  to  it 
until  his  clerk  came  in  and  asked  if  he  might  go 
to  his  dinner.  At  that  he  started  like  a  person 
who  has  been  asleep,  found  his  hat  and  cane, 
and  walked  home,  still  in  something  of  a  daze. 

The  Townleys  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  getting 
off.  All  mails  to  the  South  were  stopped  the 
day  of  their  arrival,  so  their  only  way,  if  there 
was  a  way,  of  getting  into  communication  with 
Mr.  Townley  was  through  Mr.  Odell  in  London. 
They  wrote  at  once,  but  got  a  reply  from  Mr. 
Odell  saying  that  Mr.  Townley  had  sailed  a  week 
before  for  Nassau,  where  he  hoped  to  find  a  chance 
to  dodge  through  the  blockade  in  some  sort  of 
craft.  He  had  of  course  been  unable  to  have  any 
line  of  communication  open  to  him  from  Mr. 
Odell.  He  had  sailed  with  the  confident  expec- 
tation that  his  wife  and  daughter  were  safe  in 
Wilmington. 

During  the  three  or  four  weeks  which  had 
elapsed  since  the  receipt  of  this  news,  many  let- 
ters had  been  written,  various  expedients  tried, 
to  inform  him  of  their  whereabouts,  but  as  yet 
with  no  success  whatever.     So  Mrs.  Townley  and 


88  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

Celialiad  stayed  on  from  day  to  da}'  and  week  to 
week,  lioping  tliat  something  might  turn  up,  Ijut 
until  it  did  quite  powerless  to  do  anything  but 
stay.  Meanwliile  they  were  not  unhappy,  for  the 
mutual  alTection  between  tliem  and  the  Carvers 
kept  their  unavoidable  obligation  to  them  from 
being  a  burdensome  one. 

When  John  Carver  reached  home,  a  little  later 
than  usual,  he  found  his  wife,  Winthrop,  and  Mrs. 
Townley  waiting  for  him  in  the  library.  Mrs. 
Townle^^'s  face  and  what  he  took  to  be  the  traces 
of  weeping  in  it  acted  strongly  to  bring  him  to 
himself  again.  She  made  Celia's  excuses,  saying 
her  daughter  had  a  headache  and  could  not  come 
down  to  lunch.  It  touched  him  to  think  of 
the  forlornness  of  their  case,  away  from  all  their 
friends,  in  the  enemy's  country,  and  the  enemy 
all  about  them  rejoicing  in  a  crushing  victory 
over  their  friends  and  brothers.  He  exerted  him- 
self to  show  them  every  consideration,  and  the 
exertion  did  him  good. 

Martin  had  not  yet  come  home,  but  they  sat 
down  to  lunch  without  waiting  for  him.  He 
came  in  soon,  however,  very  grave,  and  silently 
took  his  place  at  the  table. 

"  You  have  no  word  for  us  from  my  husband, 
I  suppose,"  Mrs.  Towmley  asked  of  Mr.  Carver. 

"  No,  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Odell  to-day,  but 
as  yet  he  has  heard  nothing.     The  blockade  he 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  89 

says  is  improving  and  very  little  gets  through, 
even  in  the  w^ay  of  nev^s.  He  looks  for  some 
attempt,  before  long,  to  break  it,  —  some  regular 
attempt.  It  that  case  we  shall  be  able  not  only 
to  get  word  of  him  to  you,  but  to  take  you  safely 
through  to  him." 

Winthrop  was  looking  across  the  table  at 
Martin.  He  had  noted  his  gravity,  his  silence ; 
now  he  saw  that  he  had  eaten  nothing.  "  Is 
something  wrong  ?  "  he  asked. 

Martin  glanced  up  at  him  in  astonishment,  and 
then  swiftly  around  the  table,  looking  from  one 
face  to  another. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  haven't  heard  the 
news  ?  "  he  said. 

"  The  news  ? "  demanded  his  father.  Then 
quickly,  "  Yes,  we've  heard  it,  of  course." 

Martin  looked  at  him  keenly.  "  The  news  of 
yesterday's  battle  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

His  mother  laid  her  hand  on  his  reprovingly. 
"  Yes,  yes,  dear."  She  gave  him  a  meaning  look 
and  moved  her  head  slightly  toward  Mrs.  Town- 
ley. 

"  No,"  cried  Martin.  "  I'm  sure  you  haven't. 
I  don't  mean  the  report  in  this  morning's  papers. 
That  was  a  mistake." 

"  Tell  us,  quick,"  said  Winthrop,  hoarsely. 
And  Mrs.  Townley's  eyes  made  the  same  appeal. 

"  Our  troops  were  winning   during  the  after- 


90  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

noon.  So  far  the  papers  were  right.  But  John- 
ston's army  had  escaped  from  Patterson,  and  it 
came  on  the  field  about  five  in  the  afternoon. 
The}^  took  our  men  in  flank.  There  was  a  panic 
and  —  it  isn't  over  yet.  Tlie  army's  destroyed. 
They  lost  about  two  thousand  men  killed. 
The  rest  have  melted  away.  They  are  coming 
across  the  Potomac  bridge  into  Washington  in 
droves." 

Winthrop  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 
"  My  God  ! "  he  groaned.  The  two  women,  to 
whom  the  news  had  such  different  import,  took 
it  alike,  both  very  pale  and  breathing  a  little 
quickly,  but  making  no  other  sign. 

The  expression  on  the  old  man's  face  was 
complex,  inscrutable,  until  he  looked  across  at 
Winthrop's  lowered  head,  when  there  came, 
clear  to  see,  the  light  of  anger  in  it. 

"It's  nothing  to  cry  about,"  he  said  sharply, 
brutally.  "  It's  good  news  to  one  who  under- 
stands it.  The  two  thousand  have  saved  the 
lives  of  a  great  many  thousands  more.  The 
abolitionists  have  had  enough.  They  have 
learned  their  lesson.  It's  well  they  learned  it 
so  soon.     This  will  be  the  end." 

At  his  first  words  Winthrop  looked  up,  his 
whole  face  ablaze.  None  of  the  Carvers  were 
of  the  sort  to  turn  pale  and  speak  soft  with 
anger.     Their  rages  were  of  the  more  primitive 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  91 

sort  that  set  their  hearts  to  pounding  and  gave 
their  voices  the  timbre  of  trumpets. 

Yet  as  the  lad  —  for  he  was  little  more  — 
faced  his  father  the  color  died  out  of  his  face 
and  left  him  white.  His  hands  shook  and  he 
clutched  tightly  the  edge  of  the  table  to  steady 
them.  He  w^as  no  more  a  cow^ard  than  Captain 
Dearborn,  w^ho  had  shrunk  and  shuffled  in  the 
old  man's  office  that  morning.  He  had  reached 
the  point  of  mutiny. 

"  We  have  learned  our  lesson,"  he  said  very 
slowly,  his  lips  trembling  so  that  he  could  hardly 
speak  at  all.  "  But  this  is  just  the  beginning. 
The  end  will  not  come  until  the  end  of  slavery 
comes.  If  it  takes  every  life  we've  got,  it  will 
not  end  till  then.  We  are  called  to  answer  for 
our  crimes  against  our  brothers." 

"Remember  our  guests,  whatever  you  are," 
thundered  the  old  man. 

"  Remember  yourself."  The  words  came 
faster  and  there  was  a  passionate  gesture  to 
drive  them  home.  "  What  you  have  said  is 
treason.  And  if  you  meant  what  you  said,  you 
are  a  traitor." 


CHAPTER   VI 

There  was  a  long  moment  of  silence ;  then, 
with  all  their  eyes  on  him,  Winthrop  thrust 
back  his  cliair,  rose  not  very  steadily,  and  w^ent 
out  of  the  room.  Even  after  he  disappeared  the 
others  were  turned  toward  the  empty  doorway ; 
a  feeling  quite  as  strong  in  Martin  and  his 
mother  as  in  Mrs.  Townley  kept  them  from 
looking  at  the  old  man. 

John  Carver's  first  emotion,  after  Winthrop's 
outburst,  had  been  clear  astonishment,  for  the 
boy's  admirable  self-control  hitherto  had  misled 
him  ;  but  that  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  before 
Winthrop  had  finished  speaking  a  wave  of  un- 
controlled anger  succeeded  it.  Then  had  come 
the  moment  of  silence  before  his  rage  could  find 
an  outlet  in  w^ords. 

Two  such  passions  in  one  day  are  more  than 
most  men  of  sixt^^-five  can  safely  subject  them- 
selves to.  John  Carver,  from  boyhood  to  his 
later  forties,  had  led  an  unusually  active  life, 
from  then  on  a  completely  sedentary  one,  and 
such  a  change  is  not  to  be  made  with  impunity. 
He  had  had  no  warning  of  the  danger,  though  a 
physician  might  have  noted  that  the  coarse  red 

92 


MONDAY,    JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  93 

which  had  come  in  his  cheeks  during  these  late 
years  was  not  the  flush  of  health  his  friends 
mistook  it  for,  and  would  no  doubt  have  advised 
him  against  extremes  both  of  exertion  and  ex- 
citement. 

He  had  moved  back  his  own  chair  a  little,  as 
if  he  meant  to  follow^  Winthrop  out  of  the  room, 
the  words  which  for  a  moment  had  been  denied 
him  were  on  his  lips  —  and  then  the  blow  was 
struck. 

His  face  w^ent  purplish  white,  the  sweat  beaded 
out  on  it,  then  came  a  look  of  terror  in  his  eyes. 
With  a  groan  he  clapped  his  hands  to  his  heart 
and  bent  forward  over  the  table. 

Mrs.  Carver  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant,  try- 
ing in  vain  to  discover  what  had  happened. 
Martin  was  scarcely  behind  her,  and  after  a  mo- 
ment he  gathered  the  old  man  up  in  his  great 
arms  and  carried  him  to  a  sofa  in  the  parlor, 
which  was  on  the  same  floor.  Then  he  ran  around 
to  the  stable  and  set  the  coachman  clattering  off 
on  the  bare  back  of  one  of  the  carriage  horses 
to  find  a  doctor.  He  shut  the  stable  door  after 
him  and  went  back  and  stood  w^ith  his  mother 
over  the  writhing  figure  on  the  sofa. 

There  was  very  little  they  could  do,  for  they 
knew  nothing  of  the  nature  of  his  malady  and 
dared  not  give  him  the  brandy  he  moaned  for. 
Rather  because  inaction  w^as  so  terrible,  than  in 


94  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

any  hope  that  it  would  do  good,  they  began  put- 
ting hot  cloths  on  his  chest. 

Tlie  paroxysms  of  pain  did  not  abate  at  all  at 
first,  but  dreadful  as  they  were  to  see,  they  were 
not  as  dreadful  as  the  old  man's  terror. 

He  had  faced  death  many  times  and  in  many 
visages,  coolly,  almost  contemptuously.  He  had 
worked  his  ship  inch  by  inch  off  a  perilous  lee 
shore  when  every  sheet  and  brace,  every  stick 
and  spar,  had  the  weight  of  all  their  lives  hang- 
ing upon  it.  He  would,  it  is  likely,  have  faced 
the  certainty  of  that  death  as  steadily  as  he 
faced  what  was  so  little  less.  But  this  new 
enemy,  who  laid  an  invisible  hand  upon  his 
heart  and  tore  at  it,  unmanned  him. 

Gradually  the  grip  relaxed.  When  the  doctor 
came  it  was  quite  gone.  Martin  slipped  out 
while  he  made  his  examination,  and  lay  in  wait 
for  him  on  the  front  steps.  He  was  not  a  great 
while  coming. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,"  he  said,  perceiving  Martin. 
"  Get  into  my  carriage,  can't  you  ?  And  come 
along  with  me  a  little.     I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

"  It  must  be  three  years  since  I've  seen  you," 
he  went  on.  "  I'd  an  idea  lately  that  your 
brother  Winthrop  was  growing  to  look  like  you, 
but  I  see  I'm  mistaken.  You're  like  your  father, 
though,  in  some  ways." 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you  about  him,"  Martin  began. 


MONDAY,   JULY  TWENTY-SECOND  95 

"  Y^es,  yes,"  the  doctor  interrupted.  <<  We'll 
get  around  to  him  directly.  You've  not  enlisted 
yet,  I  see.     Were  you  planning  to  go  ?  " 

"  After  to-day's  news  I  thought  I  would,"  said 
Martin.  "  I  meant  to  speak  to  father  about  it 
this  afternoon." 

"  Y'ou  w^on't  do  that,  of  course.  And  I  advise 
you  to  wait  a  little  longer,  anyway." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  the  doctor 
spoke  again. 

"  There's  no  doubt  at  all  about  the  nature  of 
your  father's  attack.  It  was  what  we  call  angina 
jpectoris.  It's  a  heart  affection.  There's  usually 
some  organic  lesion  of  the  heart  at  the  bottom 
of  it.  In  a  day  or  two  when  everything's  quieted 
down,  I'll  make  a  thorough  examination  and  see 
if  I  can  find  what  it  is.  But  that's  not  the  point. 
When  a  man  has  had  such  a  seizure  as  this  he's 
likely  to  have  another,  and  eventually  to  have 
one  that  will  prove  fatal. 

"The  organic  lesion,  if  there  is  one,  may  not 
trouble  him  for  years,  but  this  angina  may  strike 
again  at  any  moment.  Excitement  is  more  likely 
than  anything  else  to  bring  it  on  in  his  case. 
From  now  on  any  violent  passion  is  likely  to 
kill  him.  I  shall  tell  him  so  myself,  but  that 
won't  do  much  good,  or  I've  been  mistaken  about 
John  Carver  all  these  years.  These  are  exciting 
times,  and  he  takes  things  hard.     You  and  your 


96  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

mother  must  do  wliat  you  can  to  keep  him  quiet. 
It's  literally  true  that  his  life  depends  on  it." 

The  carriage  pulled  up  at  a  house  where  the 
doctor  was  to  make  a  visit.  The  doctor  gave 
Martin  a  prescription,  told  him  where  to  have  it 
filled,  and  was  about  to  go  into  the  house.  ''  Til 
tell  3"ou,  though,"  he  said,  •'  I've  taken  you  a 
long  way  from  home.  My  man  can  drive  you 
back  while  I'm  in  here." 

"  If  there's  no  hurry  Til  walk,  I  think,"  said 
Martin. 

"That's  better,"  said  the  doctor.  ^' And  I'll 
give  you  one  piece  of  advice  for  yourself.  If  you 
quit  the  sea,  as  your  father  did,  don't  quit  ex- 
ercising. When  a  man  has  developed  big  lungs 
and  a  strong  heart,  he  has  either  got  to  give 
them  something  to  do  or  they'll  play  the  mis- 
chief with  him.     That's  all." 

On  his  way  back  to  the  house  it  occurred  to 
Martin  for  the  first  time  to  wonder  what  had 
become  of  Winthrop,  —  where  he  had  gone  after 
his  sudden  exit  from  the  dining  room.  The  law- 
yers office  where  he  was  studying  was  not  far 
out  of  his  way,  and  quickening  his  pace  to  make 
up  for  the  delay  he  went  around  there.  They 
told  him  Winthrop  had  not  yet  come  back  from 
lunch.  There  was  no  time  to  look  farther,  indeed 
there  was  nowhere  else  to  look,  so  Martin  hurried 
on  home. 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  97 

He  found  his  father  sitting  up  in  a  big  easy- 
chair,  stubbornly  declaring  his  intention  to  go 
back  to  his  office  that  afternoon,  and  fretting 
against  his  wife's  protests  that  he  must  keep 
quiet  and  ought  to  keep  to  his  bed  for  several  days. 

He  seemed  to  have  aged  ten  years  since  morn- 
ing. He  was  haggard  from  pain,  weak,  nervous, 
altogether  out  of  tune.  Martin  was  disposed  at 
first  to  side  with  his  mother,  but  presently  he 
changed  his  mind  about  it.  For  some  reason 
their  resistance  seemed  to  excite  the  old  gentle- 
man greatl}^  That  was  due,  probably,  to  some 
dregs  of  the  terror  he  had  felt  during  the  seizure. 
He  was  protesting  that  it  had  meant  nothing  — 
protesting  too  much  —  to  restore  his  courage. 
At  all  events  he  must  not  excite  himself  any 
further. 

"  If  you  can  walk  as  far  as  the  carriage,  I 
don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  go,"  Martin  said  at 
last.  "There's  an  easy-chair  in  your  office  and 
a  sofa.  I'd  go  with  you,  of  course,  but  then  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  go,  either." 

"  It's  not  necessary  that  you  should  see,"  said 
his  father,  curtly. 

Martin  submitted.  "  Shall  I  send  for  the  car- 
riage, sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

More  than  once  as  they  drove  down  town 
Martin  regretted  that  he  had  not  kept  his  father 
safe  within  doors.     The  excitement  in  the  streets 


98  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

that  afternoon  was  intense.  The  revulsion  from 
rejoicing  over  yesterday's  victory  to  deploring 
yesterday's  disaster  manifested  itself  on  every 
corner ;  you  could  not  look  this  way  or  that 
without  seeing  something  that  recalled  the  very 
things  that  John  Carver  must  be  prevented  from 
thinking  about  at  all.  But  though  the  old  man's 
silence  gave  Martin  no  clew  to  his  thoughts,  he 
seemed  quite  unaware  of  the  excitement  that 
was  throbbing  all  about  him.  When  they 
reached  the  office,  he  walked  so  much  more 
steadily  than  before  that  it  appeared  that  his 
ride  had  done  him  good. 

Patrick  Odell's  letter  was  still  lying  on  the 
desk,  and  John  handed  it  to  his  son.  "  Read  it," 
he  said.  Then,  "  Read  it  aloud.  It  will  bear  a 
second  hearing." 

When  Martin  reached  Odell's  expression  of 
the  hope  that  none  of  the  White  C  ships  was 
within  the  range  of  the  Sumte7''^s  activities,  his 
father  interrupted  him. 

"  We've  lost  the  Centaur,'^^  he  said.  "  Semmes 
took  her  a  month  ago.  Dearborn  reported  this 
morning." 

"  Lost  her!"  cried  Martin,  incredulously.  "Lost 
the  Centaur  f  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  his  father  answered  impatiently. 
"  There's  no  use  whimpering  over  it.  It  can't 
be  helped." 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  99 

For  the  first  time  in  Martin's  life  occurred  to 
his  mind  the  possibility  that  the  fortune  his 
father  had  been  building  year  by  year,  the  for- 
tune which  had  been  so  amply  founded  during 
his  own  boyhood,  which  he  had  seen  growing 
so  steadily  since,  might  now,  at  the  end,  come 
tumbling  about  the  ears  of  the  already  broken 
man  who  had  given  his  life  to  it.  He  sat 
thoughtfully  silent  over  the  idea  until  his 
father's  voice   recalled    him. 

"  Well,  well,  read  on.     You've  only  begun." 

For  a  little  way  Martin  read  lifelessly,  but 
before  long  the  easily  apparent  drift  of  Odell's 
speculations  about  the  blockade  of  the  Southern 
ports  caught  him. 

"  <  The  trick  is  to  get  the  man.' "  It  was  here 
that  Captain  Dearborn's  entrance  had  interrupted 
his  father's  reading.  "  ^  Whether  he  is  the  right 
man  or  not  would  make  all  the  difference  be- 
tween  a  great  profit  and  a  great  loss.  I  said  a 
bold  man.  Such,  of  course,  may  be  found  on 
every  four  corners.  But  there  needs  a  particular 
blend  of  caution  with  recklessness  for  this  busi- 
ness which  is  rare  at  best.  Add  to  this  that 
your  man  must  have  a  particular  and  minute 
knowledge  of  all  that  difficult  coast  from  St. 
Mary's  to  Hatteras  and  you  reduce  the  number 
still  further.  Indeed,  mv  doubt  as  to  whether  it 
is  possible  at  all  to  secure  any  man  fit  to  con- 


100  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

duct  the  enterprise,  is  tlie  only  question  T  enter- 
tain as  to  its  entire  feasibility.  Will  you  turn 
the  matter  over  in  your  mind,  and  if  any  man 
occurs  to  you,  take  care  not  to  forget  him  ?  I 
don't  ask  you  to  write  me,  because  I  expect  to 
sail  for  New  York  in  a  week  or  two  myself,  on 
some  other  business.  Then  we  can  talk  it  over 
in  detail. 

*'  <  Has  your  son,  Captain  Martin,  put  to  sea 
again?  If  not,  I  should  like  to  get  his  judgment 
on  the  matter.  He  might  know  of  some  one 
exactly  to  our  purpose.'  " 

Then,  with  remembrances  and  a  number  of 
"and  so  forths,"  the  letter  ended.  Martin  had 
hardly  laid  it  down  when  there  came  a  knock  at 
the  office  door.  A  fancy  that  he  had  recognized 
the  step  as  it  approached  made  him  spring 
to  the  door  in  time  to  prevent  his  father's  sum- 
mons to  come  in. 

He  opened  the  door  cautiously.  He  had 
guessed  right.  It  was  Winthrop.  There  w^as 
no  time  for  half  measures,  so  he  crowded  out 
through  as  narrow  an  opening  as  possible  and 
shut  the  door  after  him. 

"  You  here  ?  "  said  Winthrop. 

"  Come  in,  both  of  you,"  fretted  the  old  man. 
"  What  are  you  palavering  about  ?  Come  in." 
Winthrop  obeyed  promptly,  and  Martin  followed 
him. 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  101 

He  had  no  time  to  explain,  even  to  give  a  hint 
of  the  situation,  and  now  he  v^as  pov^erless,  for 
even  if  he  had  possessed  a  knack  for  pantomime, 
which  he  conspicuously  lacked,  he  was  equally 
with  Winthrop  under  his  father's  eye.  He  could 
do  nothing  but  look  on  at  this  scene,  and  he  fell 
back  a  pace  or  two. 

Winthrop's  face  and  bearing  were  not  very 
reassuring,  but  Martin  almost  lost  his  fears  in 
his  admiration.  A  detailed  description  of  this 
youngest  son's  features,  except  the  eyes,  would 
have  done  very  well  for  any  of  his  three  brothers 
as  they  had  been  at  his  age,  but  in  him  alone 
of  the  four  was  the  ruggedness  of  the  father's 
frame  veiled,  softened  by  the  mother's  beauty. 
Again,  except  for  his  eyes,  it  was  a  number  of 
minute  differences,  a  more  delicate  chiselling 
about  the  nostrils,  a  mitigation  of  the  character- 
istic lower  jaw,  a  finer  texture  of  the  skin,  that 
set  him  apart  from  the  rest  of  them.  It  was 
by  no  means  a  weak  face,  but  his  father,  misled 
as  others  were  sometimes,  by  the  comparison 
with  Martin  and  the  memory  of  John  and  Perry, 
thought  it  was. 

His  beauty  had  never  been  so  striking  as  it 
was  to-day.  He  was  paler  than  usual  and  his 
black  eyes  were  brighter ;  too  bright  indeed  and 
restless,  though  he  was  holding  them  pretty 
steadily  on  his  father. 


102  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

The  old  man  returned  his  look  for  a  moment, 
then  swung  round  in  liis  chair  toward  the  desk. 
"  Well,  well,"  he  demanded,  "  have  you  some- 
thing to  say  ? 

« I  came  back,  sir,  to  tell  you  that  I've  enlisted 
in  the  navy."  He  said  it  simply,  not  at  all  de- 
fiantl3%  but  there  was  a  fine,  clear,  martial  tone 
about  it,  none  the  less. 

Martin  held  his  breath  while  he  w^atched  his 
father  during  those  next  few  seconds.  As  to 
his  thoughts,  he  was  actively  calculating,  from 
his  father's  position,  which  way  he  would  be 
most  likely  to  fall  when  the  explosion  of  wrath 
that  must  be  coming  brought  back  the  heart 
paroxysm  with  it. 

But  the  explosion  did  not  come ;  there  was 
nothing  left  to  explode.  John  Carver  had  ex- 
hausted, for  that  day,  his  capacity  for  anger.  He 
drummed  on  his  desk  in  an  irritated  sort  of  way. 
"  I'm  not  surprised,"  was  all  he  said. 

Winthrop,  too,  had  expected  an  explosion,  had 
steeled  himself  against  it,  and  the  petulant  non- 
resistance  of  the  reply  disturbed  his  balance  sadly. 

"  I  know  that  goes  against  your  wishes,"  he 
rejoined. 

"  The  less  said  about  that  the  better,"  grumbled 
his  father.  But  Winthrop  went  on,  his  words 
coming  quicker  and  hotter  as  he  proceeded :  — 

"  Your  opinion  and  mine  differ  at  almost  every 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  103 

point.  I've  been  deferring  to  yours  all  my  life. 
I  suppose  I  should  go  on  doing  so  if  it  were  sim- 
ply a  question  between  you  and  me.  I've  not 
forgotten  that  you're  my  father,  and  I  know  how 
much  I  owe  you,  but  —  " 

Martin  did  not  dare  to  let  it  go  further. 
"  That's  all  right,  Winthrop  —  "  he  began. 

Winthrop's  face  kindled,  and  the  muscles  in  it 
twitched  as  if  in  a  spasm  of  pain.  So  this  w^as 
where  Martin  stood  !     This  was  Martin's  loyalty  ! 

u  I've  got  this  much  more  to  say,"  he  cried, 
"  and  I'll  say  it  to  you  or  to  anybody,  —  that 
every  man  who  could  strike  a  blow  for  his  coun- 
try, now  when  she  calls  to  him,  and  who  holds  his 
hand  is  as  much  of  a  traitor  and  less  of  a  man 
than  the  one  who  strikes  straight  at  her  life. 
I'm  going  out  to  the  receiving  ship  to-night. 
Good-by  to  both  of  you." 

He  ended  with  something  very  like  a  sob,  and 
strode  out  of  the  room.  Martin  followed  him. 
Winthrop  heard,  but  only  quickened  his  pace, 
and  Martin  did  not  overtake  him  until  they 
reached  the  street  door.  Then,  taking  him  by 
the  shoulders,  he  turned  him  round. 

Winthrop  would  have  wrenched  himself  away, 
but  the  quiet,  commanding  power  of  the  great 
hands  on  his  shoulders  and  of  the  steady  gray 
eyes  fixed  on  his  own,  which  were  blurred  with 
tears  of  anger  and  excitement,  denied  resistance. 


104  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

«' Wintlirop,  old  man,  you  don't  understand,'' 
he  began. 

And  then  again  from  the  inner  room  came 
tlic  old  man's  voice,  fretful,  peremj^tory.  "  Mar- 
tin !     Come  back  in  here,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Martin,  quietly.  "  Ask 
mother  to  tell  you  what  has  happened.  Good- 
by." 

Winthrop  yielded  him  his  hand,  but  there  was 
no  response  in  it  to  Martin's  pressure.  He  went 
his  way,  and  the  elder  brother,  very  thoughtful, 
answered  his  father's  call. 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  obvious  resemblances  and  the  equally 
obvious  differences  between  Martin  and  Win- 
throp  invited  comparisons,  and,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  their  mother,  who  was  the  only  person 
who  really  understood  them  both,  every  one 
from  the  most  casual  acquaintances  to  their 
own  father,  indulged  this  tendency  to  set  one 
up  against  the  other  and  strike  some  sort  of 
balance  between  them. 

Mrs.  Townley  had  reasons  of  her  own  for 
making  a  comparison,  and  she  was  not  long  in 
reaching  the  conclusion  that  Winthrop,  with  his 
patrician  face,  his  gayety,  his  tact,  the  suggestion 
of  a  reckless,  devil-may-care  defiance  in  his  man- 
ner —  a  rather  formidable  total  —  was  much 
more  likely  than  his  sober  elder  brother  to  dis- 
turb the  peace  of  mind  of  a  not  unimpression- 
able and  very  much  unoccupied  young  girl.  She 
had  not  completed  her  first  day  in  New  York 
before  she  decided  that  it  was  fortunate  that 
Martin  was  the  one  about  to  enjoy  the  leisure 
of  a  vacation  while  Winthrop  must  go  on  with 
his  law  books  and  the  routine  of  an  attorney's 
clerk. 

105 


106  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

That  consolation  did  not  last  long.  Mr.  Carver 
could  hardly  let  Martin  out  of  his  sight.  They 
spent  whole  days  together  at  the  counting-house; 
they  lunched,  they  drove,  they  dined  together  ; 
and  the  3'oung  captain  was  led  about  the  whole 
circle  of  the  old  captain's  friends,  offered  for 
approval  and  duly  approved.  Meanwhile  the 
one  unoccupied  person  in  the  family,  in  spite  of 
the  irksomeness  of  his  legal  researches,  appeared 
to  be  Winthrop,  and  it  was  not  long  before  ap- 
pearances justified  the  mother  in  feeling  uneasy. 
Celia's  behavior  was  rather  baffling.  She  took 
Winthrop's  outspoken  admiration  very  easily, 
and  to  her  mother  she  often  expressed  her  sym- 
pathy for  him  more  frankly  than  she  would  have 
been  likely  to  do  had  there  been  any  deeper 
feeling  underlying  it.  But  there  was  no  deny- 
ing that  she  often  seemed  uneasy,  sometimes 
unhappy,  and  in  many  little  ways  unlike 
herself. 

One  evening,  a  month,  perhaps,  after  their 
arrival  in  New  York,  her  mother  found  her  in 
tears  for  which  she  would  give  no  explanation 
but  on  which  the  events  of  the  day  seemed  to 
supply  a  commentary.  The  Corona  had  just  come 
in  from  a  long  voyage,  —  her  last,  as  it  proved,  — 
and  as  she  was  the  newest  and  largest  ship  in 
the  fleet,  at  Mrs.  Carver's  suggestion,  Celia  and 
her  mother,  escorted   by  Winthrop,  and,  for   a 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  107 

wonder,  by  Martin,  too,  had  that  day  gone  down 
to  pay  her  a  visit. 

Noting  the  purposeful  way  in  which  Winthrop 
set  about  getting  Celia  away  from  the  others  and 
his  evident  intention  to  have  her  all  to  himself, 
Mrs.  Townley  took  a  hand  in  the  manoeuvre,  and 
as  her  hand  in  such  matters  was  a  light  but  a  very 
sure  one,  "  poor  Mr.  Winthrop  "  met  a  sad  tacti- 
cal reverse.  He  accompanied  the  elder  woman 
all  over  the  ship,  not  quite  able  to  see  how 
it  had  come  about  that  it  w^as  impossible  to 
do  anything  else  but  perfectly  aware  who  was 
responsible  for  it. 

On  their  starting  for  home  Martin  had  pleaded 
an  engagement  with  his  father,  and  Mrs.  Town- 
ley  drove  back  in  the  carriage,  with  two  very 
silent,  and,  to  her  mind,  rather  sullen,  young 
people.  And  then,  that  night,  the  tears !  One 
cannot  wonder  that  having  taken  the  wrong  clew 
to  start  with  she  was  led  far  astray. 

When  Mrs.  Townley  carried  Winthrop  off  that 
afternoon,  Celia  guessed  for  the  first  time  the 
existence  and  the  nature  of  her  mother's  suspi- 
cions, and  she  smiled  over  the  absurdity  of  them. 
Winthrop  was  a  very  nice  boy,  and  she  liked 
him,  of  course  ;  everj^body  did.  If  she  had  been 
a  good  deal  younger,  she  supposed  she  might  have 
fallen  in  love  with  him  —  a  little.  But  to  im- 
agine that  she  was  taking  his  attentions  seriously 


108  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

was  every  bit  as  absurd  as  to  tliink  he  meant 
(hem  so.     They  understood  each  other  perfectly. 

The  smile  lingered  in  her  eyes  until  Mrs. 
Tovvnley  and  her  involuntary  escort  disappeared. 
Then  with  a  comprehensive  little  gesture  she 
turned  toward  Martin. 

"  Now  show  me  everything,"  she  said. 

They  had  seen  very  little  of  each  other,  except 
in  compan}^  with  the  rest  of  the  family,  since 
coming  to  New  York,  and  the  few  occasions  when 
they  had  been  alone  had  not  been  very  satis- 
factor}^  The  memory  of  certain  days  on  the 
Southern  Cross  embarrassed  them  both,  and  be- 
sides that  Celia  had  easily  guessed  that  from  the 
first  Martin  w^as  laboring  in  the  same  error  in 
which  she  had  just  discovered  her  mother.  That 
was  aw^kw^ard,  of  course,  and  unfortunate,  but 
Celia  could  think  of  nothing  she  could  do  to 
help  it. 

But  to-day,  on  the  Corona^  everything  was  in 
their  favor.  The  familiar  sights  about  the  ship 
awakened  the  memory  of  the  old  intimacy  which 
had  grown  up  betw^een  them  during  their  long 
days  on  the  Southern  Cross^  and  unconsciously 
they  acknowledged  it. 

They  had  the  place  quite  to  themselves,  for 
the  ship's  cargo  w^as  discharged,  her  crew  paid 
off,  and  except  for  the  old  watchman  who  was 
showing  Mrs.  Townley  and  Winthrop  about  she 


MONDAY,    JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  109 

was  deserted.  So,  according  to  Celia's  demand, 
Martin  took  her  everywhere ;  that  is,  wherever 
her  "  crinoline "  would  permit  her  to  go,  and 
into  some  places  where,  at  first  glance,  it  would 
not  permit.  By  a  little  engineering  they  got 
down  into  the  forecastle. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  demanded, 
"  that  you  make  the  whole  crew  sleep  down 
here  ?  " 

"  When  they're  lucky  enough  to  have  time  to 
sleep  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  And  I'll  tell  you 
that  every  sailor  who  ever  signed  for  a  voyage 
on  this  ship  blessed  his  luck  when  he  brought 
his  chest  down  here  and  took  a  look  around.  If 
I  had  seen  a  forecastle  like  this  when  I  was  ship- 
ping before  the  mast,  I'd  have  thought  I'd  got 
into  passengers'  quarters  by  mistake.  That 
wasn't  in  our  line,  the  White  C,  you  know. 
The  holes  we  used  to  sleep  in  were  enough  — " 

"You!"  she  cried.  Then  after  a  little  pause, 
and  very  seriously,  she  said,  "  I  knew  of  course 
that  you'd  been  a  sailor,  but  I  never  realized  — 
Won't  you  tell  me  about  it  ?  You've  told  me  so 
little." 

"  You'd  better  come  up  on  deck  first.  I  don't 
believe  you  find  it  very  pleasant  down  here." 

"  No,  I  shall  stay  right  here.  It  will  sound 
truer  than  it  would  on  deck.  Up  there  it  would 
be  like  reading  it  in  a  book,  but  in  this  place  —  " 


110  TRAITOR  AND    LOYALIST 

She  seated  herself,  rather  gingerly  it  is  true, 
on  the  edge  of  a  bunk.     "  Now  begin,"  she  said. 

Following  a  very  just  instinct  Martin  told  her 
none  of  the  wonders  of  liis  voyages,  none  of  the 
wild,  true  tales  which  have  made  sailors'  yarns 
a  byword  for  extravagance,  but  the  little  com- 
monplaces which  went  to  make  up  the  day's 
work,  —  the  grub,  the  hazing,  the  petty  tyrannies, 
the  childish  amusements,  the  long  expectation 
of  liberty  day  ashore  and  the  inevitable  disap- 
pointment it  ahvays  proved  to  be  when  it  came. 

He  made  rather  light  of  it  all  at  first,  but 
soon  fell  in  with  her  mood,  which  was  sober. 
After  he  had  finished  she  sat  silent  awhile,  and 
it  was  not  until  he  again  suggested  that  they  go 
back  on  deck  that  she  spoke. 

"  But  all  the  wdiile  you  knew  who  you  were," 
she  said.  "  And  you  knew  why  you  w^ere  down 
here.  You  let  them  do  all  those  things  to  you 
because  you  chose." 

"  Not  exactly.  Oh,  I  knew  of  course  —  with 
my  head,  but  you  often  forget  what  you  know 
that  way.  I  got  so  that  I  didn't  know  it  with 
my  feelings.  That  comes  back  over  me  some- 
times. It  has  down  here  to-day  —  perhaps  from 
talking  about  it.  I  feel  as  if  I  hadn't  any 
right  to  be  talking  to  you." 

"  Let's  go  back  on  deck,"  she  said,  without 
the  laugh  he  expected. 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND         111 

When  they  had  engineered  their  way  out  into 
the  air  again,  she  led  the  way  aft  to  the  quarter- 
deck. Then  she  smiled,  a  rather  sober  little 
smile,  and  asked,  "  You're  not  afraid  of  me  now, 
are  you  —  Captain  ?  " 

His  thoughts  seemed  a  long  way  off  and  she, 
guessing  them  or  merely  giving  play  to  her  own, 
began  talking  to  him  as  if  they  were  out  at  sea, 
asking  how  many  knots  they  had  logged  that 
day,  if  he  thought  there  was  a  storm  coming  up, 
and  when  he  was  going  to  wear  ship  again. 

"  I  shall  never  get  over  that,"  he  said,  point- 
ing forward.  "  I'm  just  a  sailor,  and  I  ought 
never  to  come  ashore."  Then,  with  a  vehe- 
mence that  startled  her,  "  Ah,  how  I'd  like  to 
take  this  craft  out  again,  or  the  old  Cross 
yonder,  —  take  her  around  the  Horn  !  " 

Winthrop  and  Mrs.  Townley  had  come  on 
deck,  but  they  were  lingering,  still  out  of  earshot. 

"  I  could  do  that,"  Martin  went  on.  "I  can 
command  a  ship.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  be  con- 
tent with  that.  But  I'd  like  to  know  a  few  of 
the  things  that  Winthrop  there  knows  so  well. 
We  make  fun  of  a  landlubber  at  sea,  but  he's 
nothing  to  a  sealubber  ashore." 

"  When  did  you  begin  to  get  such  ideas  as 
that  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  You  know  they  aren't 
true." 

Winthrop   and    Mrs.    Townley    were    coming 


112  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

aft  now.  Martin  turned  away  from  them  and 
toward  Celia  with  a  liule  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  Oh,  you're  very  kind  to  me  —  " 

"Kind,"  she  interrtipted  indignantly.  "I'm 
not  kind  to  anybody." 

"  I  don't  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Townley,  "  that 
you've  seen  as  much  of  her  as  we  did,  though 
you  did  have  Captain  Carver  to  show  you  about." 

As  to  why  Celia  cried  that  night  she  could 
not  explain  to  herself,  let  alone  to  her  mother. 
Only  things  did  go  perversely  sometimes  and 
everybody  w^as  stupid. 

The  twenty-second  of  July,  the  day  of  the 
false  news  of  Bull  Run  and  then  the  true  news, 
the  day  that  Captain  Dearborn  reported  the 
loss  of  the  Centaur^  that  Winthrop  mutinied 
and  old  John  Carver  nearly  died  in  one  of  his 
rages,  had  not  quite  emptied  the  Pandora's  box 
of  sensations  it  had  brought. 

About  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Mrs. 
Townley,  coming  into  Celia's  room,  roused  her 
from  an  uneasy  sleep. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  w^ake  you,  dear,"  she  said.  "  A 
real  nap  would  have  done  you  good." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  was  asleep,"  the  girl  an- 
nounced wearily. 

Her  mother  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  bed, 
stroked  her  dishevelled  hair,  and  kissed  her  wet 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  113 

eyelids.  "  I  hope  there  won't  be  man}'  such 
days  until  we  get  back  home,"  she  said.  "  This 
has  been  too  hard  for  you." 

"  No  harder  than  for  you,  Mummy.  You're 
braver  than  I  am." 

"  Older,  Celia,  that's  all." 

Indeed,  to  one  who  looked  closely,  Mrs.  Town- 
ley  showed  the  marks  of  that  day  no  less  plainly 
than  her  daughter.     Both  were  exhausted. 

"  I've  a  message  for  you,"  the  mother  went  on. 
"Mrs.  Carver  asked  me  if  Winthrop  might  see 
you.     He's  waiting  in  the  library." 

"  I  cannot  see  him,  of  course.  Look  at  me. 
My  eyes  won't  be  fit  to  be  seen  for  days." 

"  I'd  go  down,  dear,  if  I  could." 

Her  mother  was  looking  at  her  searchingly, 
and  her  gaze  brought  an  anguish  of  quick  alarm 
into  the  girl's  face.  "  Oh,  has  something  dread- 
ful happened,  — something  else  ?  What  —  why 
don't  you  tell  me,  mother  ?  " 

She  was  already  off  the  bed  and  with  trem- 
bling fingers  was  trjdng  to  fasten  her  dress  and 
rearrange  her  tumbled  hair.  Her  mother  helped 
her  silently. 

When  it  was  finished,  Celia  kissed  her  fore- 
head, and  again  the  look,  wistful,  troubled, 
questioning,  arrested  her.  "  You  do  know,"  she 
cried,  but  Mrs.  Townley  shook  her  head,  and 
Celia,  after  waiting  a  moment  for  some    other 


114  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

answer,  turned  and  went  slowl}^  down  the  stairs 
to  tlie  library. 

He  was  standing,  as  once  before  she  had  seen 
him,  in  tlie  recessed  window,  and,  curiously, 
again  the  first  thought  which  ahnost  had  time  to 
reach  full  consciousness,  was  of  Martin. 

He  was  alert  for  her  coining  this  time,  and 
turning  quickly,  thrust  out  his  hands  toward 
her.  The  gesture,  too,  made  her  think  of  the 
elder  brother. 

"  Celia,"  he  said. 

He  had  called  her  that  once  before,  but  then 
with  a  playful  impudence  which  had  so  patently 
invited  a  rebuke  that  she  had  laughed  —  and  not 
rebuked  him. 

But  to-day  there  was  a  note  in  his  voice  which 
was  not  to  be  mistaken. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  said.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"  What  has  happened  ?  You  know,  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  About  the  battle,  yes,  and  that  your  father 
has  been  very  ill." 

"  Mother  told  me  of  that  only  half  an  hour 
ago.  Did  you  know  that  it  was  a  quarrel  with 
me  that  brought  on  the  attack  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  And  you  know  what  w^e  quarrelled  about  ?  " 

She  hesitated.      ''  Not  exactly,"  she  said. 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  115 

"  Then  I  want  to  tell  you  that  —  first." 

He  noted  how  white  and  forlorn  she  looked,  so 
he  insisted  on  making  her  comfortable  in  a  big 
chair  before  he  went  on.  Then  he  spoke  quickly 
but  very  moderately. 

"  I'm  what  you  call  —  what  I  call,  too  —  I'm 
an  abolitionist.  Father  guessed  it  long  ago  — 
though  we  have  never  come  to  words  over  the 
question,  and  he  has  —  despised  me  for  it.  To- 
day, when  he  said  that  we  had  had  our  lesson, 
and  that  yesterday's  defeat  would  be  the  end,  I 
told  him  that  there  would  never  be  an  end, 
never  until  the  slaves  were  free  or  we  were  all 
dead.     And  I  told  him  he  was  a  traitor." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  She  made  no  com- 
ment whatever  but  by  a  look  of  troubled  per- 
plexity in  her  white  face. 

"  You  know  why  I  had  to  tell  you  this  — 
first,  don't  you,  Celia  ?  It  might  make  a  differ- 
ence, perhaps  a  great  difference,  but  there  can  be 
no  false  pretence  of  any  kind  between  us  now." 

The  question  deepened  in  her  face,  and  she 
looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  I  enlisted  to-day.  I  have  only  this  hour  left, 
so  I  must  tell  you,  now.  Don't  you  know  what 
I  have  to  tell  ?  Don't  you  guess,  Celia,  —  sweet- 
heart ?  " 

With  a  sharp  intaking  of  the  breath,  she  half 
rose,  than  sank  back  limply  in  her  chair.     He 


116  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

stood  before  her  —  lie  would  have  knelt  but  for 
the  look  in  her  face. 

"  Haven't  you  known  before  ?  Haven't  you 
seen?"  he  demanded.  "I've  been  trying  to 
show  you.     I  thought  you  understood." 

"  There  has  been  a  mistake,"  she  said  labo- 
riousl}^  "  I  ought  to  have  seen.  I  see  now.  I 
am  very  much  to  blame." 

*'  But  all  these  days  —  surely  they  meant  some- 
thing.    You  must  have  meant  —  " 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  wish  I  —  " 

The  gust  spent  itself  before  she  finished  the 
sentence.     Then  she  said  very  gently  :  — 

"Mother  saw.  At  least,  she  thought  it  was 
the  other  way  —  that  I  was  —  falling  in  love 
with  you."  There  came  a  faint  flush  into  her 
cheeks,  but  she  went  on,  "  And  Captain  Carver 
seemed  to  think  that,  too." 

He  was  badly  hurt,  and  he  cried  out :  — 

"  So  you  w^ere  just  amusing  yourself  and  laugh- 
ing at  all  of  us,"  he  said. 

"  You  have  a  right  to  say  that.  I  am  almost 
as  much  to  blame  as  if  it  were  true.  But  it 
isn't.  Other  men  have  —  have  been  nice  to  me 
the  way  you  have.  They've  said  the  same  kind 
of  things  and  never  —  never  meant  anything  at 
all,  and  I  understood.  I  thought  you  were  just 
the  same." 

She  paused  there  for  a  moment,  and  w^hen  she 


MONDAY,   JULY   TWENTY-SECOND  117 

went  on  it  was  with  an  obviously  greater 
effort. 

"  Perhaps  I  might  have  seen  that  you  were  — 
different,  if  I'd  tried  to  see.  But  I  wanted  it  to 
be  that  way,  so  I  was  sure  it  was.  It  was  so 
pleasant  to  be  with  you,  and  I  liked  you  better 
than  —  than  almost  any  one  else." 

"  Almost  ?  " 

The  color  came  flaming  into  her  cheeks  now, 
but  she  kept  looking  steadily  into  his  eyes. 
"  Yes  —  almost,"  she  said. 

He  looked  back  into  hers  searchingly  for  a 
moment,  then  turned  away.  When  he  spoke 
again  it  was  only  to  say,  with  a  boyish,  pitiful 
attempt  to  hide  his  hurts :  — 

"  I  must  be  going  on.  Will  you  say  good-by 
for  me  to  your  mother  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  any  right  to  ask  you  to  forgive 
me,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  you  will  sometime, 
though  I  was  so  much  to  blame,  and  —  good-by." 


PAET  III 

THE   BLOCKADE 


CHAPTER   VIII 

To  an  interested  but  disinterested  spectator, 
to  an  Englishman,  for  instance,  with  a  leaning 
towards  economics,  to  Mr.  Patrick  Odell,  let  us 
say,  cotton  seemed  to  include  everything  in  the 
situation.  Cotton  was  responsible  for  the  recru- 
descence of  the  question  of  slavery.  Cotton  had 
made  the  South  rich,  aristocratic,  provincial,  and, 
it  must  be  said,  lazy,  contemptuous  of  the  grub- 
bing mercantile  North,  yet  indolently  willing  to 
look  North  for  all  the  necessaries,  luxuries,  ex- 
travagances, which  cotton  found  it  so  easy  to  buy. 
Cotton  was  food,  drink,  fine  apparel,  implements 
of  peace,  sinews  of  war.     Cotton  was  king. 

And  so,  clearl}',  if  it  should  be  possible  to  dis- 
enchant cotton,  to  rob  it  of  its  alchemy,  to  pre- 
vent its  transformation  into  cannon  and  sabres, 
into  rations  and  blankets,  to  hold  it  yellowing 
in  the  bale  along  deserted  wharves,  its  own  help- 
less, useless  self,  —  if  they  could  hold  the  South 
in  such  a  grip  as  that  would  be,  they  could,  in 
time,  wring  all  resistance  out  of  the  stoutest 
hearts  that  ever  beat.  But  to  do  this  they  must 
stretch  a  barrier  round  three  thousand  miles  of 
coast,  a  barrier  which  every  commercial  instinct, 

121 


122  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

the  world  over,  would  be  trying  to  break.  Wave 
and  tempest  and  the  exliaustion  of  ceaseless 
watching  would  make  it  easy  to  break. 

It  was  perfectly  easy  to  demonstrate  that  such 
a  feat  was  impossible.  Whenever  the  wind  blew 
high  from  the  northeast,  for  instance,  the  ships 
composing  that  barrier  must  steam  far  out  to 
sea.  Who  could  imagine  that  any  craft  how- 
ever stanch,  however  stanch  the  hearts  that 
manned  her,  could  ride  out  a  North  Atlantic 
gale  along  that  battered  coast,  at  anchor !  Well, 
impossible  or  not,  it  was  evident  that  the  North 
meant  to  try  it.  The  Friday  after  the  fall  of 
Sumter,  the  day  the  Sixth  Massachusetts  marched 
through  Baltimore,  the  President  proclaimed  the 
blockade. 

It  was  not  wonderful  that  Europe,  England, 
Mr.  Patrick  Odell,  looked  suspiciously  at  the 
proclamation.  Since  the  Napoleonic  wars,  that 
sort  of  licensed  piracy  known  as  the  paper  block- 
ade had  been  discountenanced.  In  1861,  accord- 
ing to  the  code  of  nations  a  blockade  to  be 
binding  must  be  effective.  Before  you  could  for- 
bid a  neutral  to  hold  commerce  with  a  hostile 
port,  before  you  had  a  right  to  arrest  and  search 
a  neutral  on  the  high  seas  and  carry  him  off  as 
prize  if  circumstances  seemed  to  warrant  it,  you 
must  have,  constantl}^,  men-of-war  enough  about 
the  mouth    of  the  blockaded  port   to  keep  the 


THE   BLOCKADE  123 

neutral   out,  or  at  least  to  make  his  getting  in 
"  evidently  dangerous." 

And  the  fleet  ?  On  the  day  Abraham  Lincoln 
was  inaugurated,  the  second-class  screw  sloop 
Pawnee  lay  in  the  Potomac,  and  the  third-class 
steamers  Mohawh  and  Crusader  were  at  New 
York.  That  was  all.  There  was  not  another 
steam  vessel  of  the  United  States  navy  in 
commission  and  in  a  home  port ! 

But,  by  the  last  of  April,  1861,  the  greater 
part,  seven-eighths  probabl}^,  of  the  cotton  crop  of 
the  fall  of  1860  was  already  out  of  the  country 
and  the  paltry  remainder  gave  little  incentive  for 
trying  to  break  the  tenuous  line  of  cruisers  which 
had  been  flung  about  the  seceded  states.  There 
were  a  few  months  during  that  summer  when 
the  South  could  laugh  and  England  observe 
with  amazement  that  the  bragging  Yankees  were 
really  the  dupes  of  their  own  tall  talk,  that  they 
veritably  believed  that  this  preposterous  blockade 
of  theirs  was  going  to  be  an  actuality.  Well, 
they  might  enjoy  their  delusion  a  little  longer. 
Cotton  was  not  yet  ready.  When  it  was,  it 
would  take  its  way  through  its  accustomed  chan- 
nels, and  the  paper  blockade  would  cease  to  be 
even  in  appearance. 

During  these  summer  months  was  worked  a 
transformation.  Few  saw  it,  to  be  sure,  for  Big 
Bethel,  Bull  Run,  Ball's  Bluff,  the  blunders,  the 


124  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

disappointments,  all  loomed  so  large  that  the 
really  significant  march  of  events  was  hard  to  trace. 
But  the  march  went  on.  Slowly  the  forces  were 
gathered  up,  slowly  the  grip  tightened,  the  grip 
which  was  never  to  slacken  till  it  had  made  an  end. 

England  watched,  neutral  but  very  alert ;  the 
South  watched,  defiant,  contemptuous ;  they  saw 
nothing.  But  w^hen  the  first  of  the  crop  of  1861 
w^as  ripe  and  picked  and  ginned,  the  long  line  of 
cruisers  was  no  longer  imaginary.     It  held. 

Not  perfectly,  of  course.  The  South  ceased 
to  laugh,  and  began  protesting.  "  This  thing 
has  passed  a  joke.  There  is  no  blockade.  Don't 
be  abused  by  the  lies  they  tell  up  North.  The 
cotton  is  waiting  for  you  on  every  w^harf.  Come 
and  get  it." 

Still  the  cotton  lay  on  the  wharves.  It  was 
past  a  joke.  From  Manchester,  Leeds,  Birming- 
ham, Liverpool,  came  the  cry  for  cotton.  The 
mills  must  have  it.  The  mills  began  to  close. 
Men  were  lounging  in  the  streets,  women  grew 
gaunt,  and  children  wailed  with  hunger. 

Men  were  still  protesting  that  the  blockade 
was  an  outrage,  that  it  was  a  mere  pretence, 
that  there  was  no  blockade.  But  there  was  in 
plain  sight  of  everybody  a  gauge,  accurate,  un- 
disturbed by  any  heat  of  passion,  —  a  dial  face 
with  two  hands,  one  indicating  the  price  of 
cotton    in  Liverpool,    the     other    the    price    in 


THE   BLOCKADE  125 

Charleston,  South  Carolina.  Every  week,  every 
day,  saw  these  two  hands  drawing  farther  apart. 
The  angle  between  them  measured  the  efficiency 
of  the  blockade. 

It  is  the  law  of  the  wind,  the  lightning,  the 
rain,  that  nature  abhors  an  inequality,  and  it  is 
no  less  a  law  of  economics.  The  wider  that 
angle  grew  between  those  two  needles  on  the 
dial,  the  greater  became  the  pressure  which  tried 
to  force  them  together.  And  as  the  angle 
widened  and  the  pressure  increased,  it  began  a 
metamorphosis  in  men  and  things.  It  made 
speculators,  heroes,  bankrupts,  traitors,  fanatics, 
millionnaires,  just  as  men  happened  to  stand,  just 
according  to  the  circumstances  in  which  it  found 
them.  Rich  men,  poor  men,  beggar  men,  be- 
gan changing  hands,  changing  places  in  a  mad 
reel,  fantastic,  yet  all  according  to  an  unalterable 
law. 

All  our  friends  had  their  places  in  the  dance, 
old  John  Carver  and  his  wife,  Martin,  Mrs. 
Townley,  Celia,  Mr.  Patrick  Odell ;  there  was  no 
escaping  it. 

The  first  sign  had  been  Mr.  OdelPs  arrival  in 
New  York.  He  was  generally  anywhere  from  a 
minute  to  a  month  ahead  of  the  rest  of  the 
world  in  understanding  a  situation  and  spying 
out  his  own  path  amid  the  maze.  His  letter  to 
John  Carver  showed  that  he  had  begun  to  take 


126  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

a  reckoning.  Before  reacliing  New  York  he  had 
his  course  all  charted ;  he  knew  every  current, 
every  bit  of  shoal  water.  He  was  in  New  York 
less  than  a  month.  When  he  left  Martin  accom- 
panied him  back  to  Liverpool,  to  London,  and  a 
little  later  to  the  Clyde,  where  Odell  had  once 
seen  the  steamer,  the  long,  low,  snake  of  a  craft 
which  had  so  greatly  interested  him. 

Three  months  later  a  new  deal  of  the  cards 
brought  them  all  together  again  in  a  place  which 
none  but  Martin  and  old  John  Carver  had  seen  or 
more  than  barely  heard  of  before,  the  city  of 
Nassau,  capital  of  the  British  colony,  the  Baha- 
mas. It  was  a  sleepy  little  place,  with  a  lazy 
trade  in  sponges,  and  a  regretful  memory  of  the 
good  old  days  before  the  devious  waters  of  the 
West  Indian  Archipelago  had  been  lighted  and 
charted,  and  there  had  been  a  thriving  trade 
in  wrecking.  There  was  another,  a  better,  time 
just  ahead,  and  the  little  city  was  soon  to  be 
awakened  by  a  veritable  shower  of  gold  heaped 
in  its  lap  by  the  same  capricious,  methodical 
force  which  was  starving  the  luckless  spinners 
of  Leeds  and  Manchester. 

It  is  an  article  in  the  International  Code  that 
breach  of  blockade  begins  with  the  act  of  sail- 
ing for  a  blockaded  port.  In  any  corner  of  the 
world's  high  seas,  a  Federal  cruiser,  encounter- 
ing a  neutral  merchantman,  had  a  right  to  arrest 


THE   BLOCKADE  127 

her,  and,  if  anything  about  her  papers  or  her 
cargo  indicated  that  she  was  bound  to  or  from  a 
blockaded  port,  to  clap  a  prize  crew  aboard  her 
and  send  her  to  New  York  to  be  judged.  If  the 
Admiralty  Court  then  agreed  in  their  opinion, 
she  was  sold  as  prize,  and  captain  and  crew 
went  their  way,  richer  in  pocket  and  rejoicing 
at  heart,  to  catch  another.  One  could  be  caught 
with  exactly  as  much  legality  off  Fastnet  Light 
as  off  Frying  Pan  Shoals. 

But  if  the  merchantman  was  bound  for  a 
neutral  port,  if  her  cargo  was  really  consigned 
to  merchants  in  that  port  who  had  a  right  to  get 
it,  then  the  case  was  altered,  and  though  the 
captain  of  the  cruiser  might  be  morally  certain 
that  eventually  her  "  heavy  hardware "  or  her 
blankets  were  destined  for  the  Confederacy,  still 
he  had  no  power  to  touch  them. 

A  neutral  port,  therefore,  not  too  far  from  the 
blockaded  coast  became  an  essential  in  the  great 
game.  There  were  three  such,  Havana,  Ber- 
muda, and  Nassau,  of  which  the  last  named, 
lying  just  across  the  Gulf  Stream  from  the 
Florida  coast,  was  the  nearest  and  the  best. 
Using  this  port  as  a  base,  one  could  crowd  all 
the  risk  of  the  voyage  from  England  into  the  last 
five  hundred  miles  of  it.  For  five-sixths  of  the 
way  the  merchandise  and  the  cotton  could  be 
carried  openly,  safely,  cheaply. 


128  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

So  the  lazy,  "basking  little  city  of  Nassau  was 
to  become  one  of  the  important  commercial  cen- 
tres of  the  world.  Her  hot,  white  streets  would 
soon  be  crowded  with  eager  speculators,  her  dark, 
damp  little  shops  overflowing  with  buyers  fling- 
ing sovereigns  about  like  halfpence,  her  harbor 
thronged  with  masts  and  funnels.  The  secret  of 
the  Midas  touch  was  to  be  learned  again.  One 
would  only  have  to  stretch  out  a  hand  and  what 
lay  underneath  would  turn  to  gold. 

In  the  harbor  of  this  city,  and  a  very  good 
harbor  it  was  in  those  days,  tugging  lightly  at 
her  cables  as  the  tide  ran  lazily  by,  lay  a  side- 
wheel  steamer,  a  low,  narrow,  rakish-looking 
vessel,  the  identical  craft  which  had  inspired  so 
great  an  enthusiasm  in  Mr.  Odell  when  he  saw 
her  slipping  down  the  Clyde.  What  her  name 
had  been  in  those  days  is  of  no  importance.  It 
is  just  as  well,  perhaps,  not  to  mention  it.  On 
her  arrival  in  Nassau,  Mr.  Odell  had  promptly 
suggested  rechristening  her  the  Celia,  but  as 
that  young  lady  declined  the  honor,  and  in  a 
manner,  by  the  way,  which  seemed  to  him  un- 
necessarily peremptory,  they  had  hit  upon  the 
Caroline  as  specially  appropriate  to  the  two  ports 
where  she  expected  to  trade.  She  sat  even  lower 
in  the  water  than  on  that  first  occasion,  for  now 
she  was  loaded  with  all  they  dared  put  into  her. 
Deep  in  her  hold,  invoiced  as  hardware,  was  the 


THE   BLOCKADE  129 

veiy  shipment  of  arms  which  the  Southern  Cross 
had  tried  to  cany  into  Wihnington. 

Mr.  Odell's  enthusiasm  for  her  had  grown 
greater  with  every  day  of  the  voyage  down,  and 
now  that  he  had  old  John  Carver  to  share  it 
with  him,  it  effervesced  constantly.  Mr.  Carver's 
went  even  to  greater  lengths  than  his  own  They 
never  tired  of  rowing  around  her  in  a  little  boat, 
admiring  her  long,  thin  entrance,  her  feathering 
paddles,  the  graceful  turn  of  her  counter.  Then 
they  would  clamber  aboard,  and  admire  the  im- 
proved oscillating  cylinders  to  her  engines  and  the 
heaps  of  clean  Pennsylvania  anthracite  in  her 
bunkers. 

There  was  nothing  systematic  or  necessary 
about  these  dailv  visits.  The  trim,  fast  little 
craft  was  simply  a  new  toy,  and  they  could  not 
keep  aw^ay  from  it.  They  recognized  this  them- 
selves, and  often  acknowledged  that  the  old  man 
of  the  party,  the  serious-minded,  responsible  head 
of  the  enterprise,  was  Martin. 

Indeed,  he  seemed  to  them  to  take  the  respon- 
sibility too  hard.  He  not  only  faced  it,  he  seemed 
unwilling  to  look,  even  for  a  moment,  at  any- 
thing else.  He  was  now  in  the  hold,  now  in  the 
chart  room,  and  when  he  went  ashore  it  was 
only  to  go  straight  to  the  agency  in  Bay  Street, 
to  pick  up  whatever  late  intelligence  might  have 
come  in  as  to  the  conditions  of  the  blockade,  the 

K 


130  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

lights,  and  batteries  at  Cape  Fear  or  elsewhere. 
He  worked  as  hard  as  a  man  could,  but  it  was 
all  up  hill  with  him.  He  seemed  to  have  lost  his 
spring. 

"  And  he  ought  to  be  as  gay  as  a  lark,  too," 
said  the  old  man,  talking  it  over,  as  he  had  done 
before  with  Mr.  Odell.  "  He  has  got  a  bold 
man's  job  to  do,  and  a  dashing  craft  to  do  it  in." 

They  were  standing  on  the  high  bridge  amid- 
ships, and  Mr.  Carver  looked  forward  and  then 
aft  as  he  spoke.  "  She's  as  pretty  a  thing  in  her 
way  as  the  old  Cross  was  in  hers,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  the  boy.  He's 
as  cold-blooded  as  a  fish." 

"It's  just  as  well,"  the  other  answered,  "that 
what  blood  goes  to  his  head,  at  least,  shouldn't 
be  too  hot.  And  from  what  I  know  of  men,  it's 
just  when  a  chap  gets  into  his  frame  of  mind 
that  nothing  can  stop  him." 

Upon  the  hill  in  a  secluded  corner,  shaded  by 
the  salient  of  the  deserted  Fort  Fincastle,  sat 
Mrs.  Townley  and  Celia.  The  lazy  little  city 
with  its  pink  and  orange  walls,  its  faded  green 
jalousies,  its  blazing  white  streets,  was  sleeping 
soundly  in  the  warm  November  sun.  Only  the 
lightest  of  airs  was  stirring,  but  the  remnant  of 
some  storm  a  thousand  miles  away  was  spend- 
ing itself  in  long,  foam-crested  ridges,  thundering 


THE   BLOCKADE  131 

over  the  sands  on  the  farther  side  of  the  little 
strip  of  an  island  which  forms  a  breakwater 
and  makes  the  harbor  of  Nassau.  Out  beyond 
stretched  the  sea,  bluer,  literally  bluer,  than  sap- 
phires and  more  luminous.  In  the  shallow  har- 
bor it  was  several  shades  lighter,  but  perhaps 
more  intensely  blue.  And  up  in  the  blue  sk}",  to 
give  the  finishing  touch  to  the  tropically  colored 
picture,  was  a  great  cumulous  cloud,  olive-green 
and  saffron,  which  threatened  before  sunset  to 
spill  a  shower  upon  the  little  city. 

Mrs.  Townley  was  reading  a  letter,  obviously 
not  for  the  first  time,  for  her  gaze  frequently 
wandered,  now  out  to  the  harbor  where  the 
prospective  blockade-runner  lay  at  anchor,  now 
to  the  sea  or  to  the  cloud,  but  most  often  to  her 
daughter's  face.  The  girl  was  sitting  quietly, 
but  it  was  with  an  evident  effort,  for  the  few 
movements  she  made  were  restless  and  quite 
without  purpose. 

"  I  don't  like  it,  after  all,"  she  said  fretfully. 
"  It's  so  bright  and  staring." 

"Did  I  tell  you  that  Mr.  Odell  thinks  we  shall 
get  oif  to-morrow,  so  this  is  likely  to  be  our 
last  afternoon  up  here  ?  Your  memory  will  tell 
you  another  story  of  it  when  we're  gone  away." 

"  I  shall  always  hate  it,  whether  it's  pretty  or 
not,  and  I  shall  never  remember  one  of  these 
days  if  I  can  help  it." 


132  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

Her  mother  turned  back  to  her  letter.  "  Isn't 
it  good,"  she  said,  after  a  little  silence,  "  to  hear 
from  them,  if  it's  only  as  indirectly  as  this? 
And  Mrs.  Sherwin  will  probably  have  later 
news  of  them  by  the  time  we  get  home,  even 
if  there  isn't  a  letter  waiting  for  us.  Three  days 
now  —  three  days  —  and  we'll  be  home  again." 

"  It  won't  be  much  like  home,  with  father 
and  Harper  away,  and  no  house  to  go  to.  And 
we'll  be  curiosities,  too.  Every  one  we  know  will 
insist  upon  all  the  details  of  our  adventures. 
We'll  have  to  tell  our  story  a  dozen  times  a  day. 
If  they'd  only  leave  us  alone  ! " 

That  was  about  what  Celia's  mood  had  been 
ever  since  they  had  come  to  Nassau ;  broken  by 
occasional  fits  of  penitence  and  remorse  it  is 
true,  but  in  the  main  just  about  that.  The 
next  silence  was  a  little  longer,  but  again  it  was 
the  mother  who  broke  it. 

"  Have  you  noticed  the  strange  blue-gray  coat 
of  paint  they're  putting  on  the  ship  ?  It's  to 
make  her  invisible,  Mr.  Carver  says.  Really, 
you  can't  see  her  nearly  so  plainly  as  you  could 
yesterday.  Do  you  see  how  that  little  sponging 
sloop  stands  out,  and  it's  farther  away  than  she 
is.     It  was  Martin's  idea,  I  believe." 

"No  doubt,"  commented  Celia. 

"  I  find  myself  thinking  of  it  as  a  certainty," 
Mrs.  Townley   went  on,   "  just  as  though    there 


THE   BLOCKADE  133 

were  no  blockading  fleet  in  the  way.  I  forget 
that  there  is  any  chance  or  danger  about  it. 
And  I  suppose  it  is  safe  enough,  or  they 
wouldn't  let  us  take  the  risk." 

"  Safe  !  Do  you  suppose  Martin  Carver 
would  as  much  as  look  at  .it  if  it  weren't 
perfectly  safe  ?  " 

Mrs.  Townley  looked  at  her,  not  in  surprise, 
for  she  had  heard  such  outbreaks  before,  but 
with  both  trouble  and  interrogation  in  her  face. 
Her  daughter  did  not  answer  the  look,  but  tried 
to  give  a  playful  note  to  her  voice  as  she  went  on. 

"  But  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad  if  they  did  take 
us,  Mummy.  A  prison  w^ouldn't  be  such  a  bad 
place.     We'd  be  by  ourselves,  anyhow." 

But  her  voice  only  sounded  drier  and  harder 
for  its  attempted  lightness.  Her  mother,  with 
a  little  sigh,  turned  her  face  away,  but  not  until 
Celia  had  seen  her  eves  filled  with  tears.  And 
at  that  it  was  as  if  a  taut-drawn  cord  had 
snapped.     She  buried  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap. 

"  Oh,  Mummy,  Mummy,  I've  been  so  wicked 
to  you.  Do  you  love  me  at  all,  or  do  you  go 
on  being  kind  to  me  just  because  you're  kind  ?  " 

Her  mother  bent  over  her,  stroking  her  head 
and  speaking  her  name  softly,  as  one  would 
speak  to  a  little  child.  Presently  the  girl 
ceased  sobbing,  and  lay  quite  still  in  her  mother's 
lap.     After  a  little,  she  spoke  again,  very  quieth' . 


134  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

"  I've  been  so  miserable  and  unhappy.  You 
know  wliy.  At  least  you  know  a  little  why. 
But  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  I've 
been  trying  to  tell  you  a  long,  long   while." 

She  was  silent,  though,  for  a  time,  and  before 
speaking  again  she  sat  erect  and  dried  her  eyes. 
She  had  her  voice  well  in  control  when  she 
began,  and  if  she  spoke  incoherently,  it  was  by 
reason  of  her  effort  to  reveal  everything,  to  show 
to  this  one  person  in  the  world  the  whole  of  her 
troubled  heart. 

"  It  wasn't  so  much  the  thing  itself  as  it  was 
the  pettiness  and  sordidness  and  meanness  of  it 
all  that  —  that  was  worst.  I  wouldn't  have 
believed  that  if  I  hadn't  just  seen  it  grow  every 
day.  I  knew  I'd  been  mistaken  twice  about 
him,  and  when  I  began  to  be  afraid  of  what 
might  happen,  I  resolved  that  I  wouldn't  care 
what  the  appearances  might  be  against  him.  I 
thought  I'd  know  what  he  really  was,  no  mat- 
ter what  might  seem  to  contradict  it.  And 
then  Mr.  Odell  came  over,  and  they  began  to 
have  their  long  talks,  and  he  grew  so  interested 
in  the  idea.  Oh,  he  really  lihed  it !  If  I  hadn't 
seen  that  part  of  it,  I'd  have  thought  that  there 
must  be  some  reason,  some  secret  that  he  couldn't 
tell  me,  that  made  him  do  it.  I  suppose  there 
might  be  some  reason,  perhaps,  that  w^ould  justify 
a  man  in  turning  traitor  to  his  country." 


"'Oh,  Mummy,  Mummy.' 


THE   BLOCKADE  135 

«  Oh  —  "  began  ]\Irs.  Townley,  tentatively. 

"  Isn't  that  what  he's  done,  Mummy  ? "  the 
girl  demanded  imperatively.  "  Suppose  that 
Harper  —  " 

"  It  seems  so  to  us,  certainly,"  said  the  mother, 
but  still  cautiously,  and  with  some  hesitation. 
Celia  went  on  :  — 

"  If  he  had  just  come  to  me  some  day  and  told 
me  he  was  going  to  take  command  of  a  blockade- 
runner,  I  shouldn't  have  —  oh,  I'd  have  cared, 
of  course,  but  it  would  have  been  different. 
Even  if  he  hadn't  explained,  even  if  he  hadn't 
said  there  was  anything  to  explain,  I'd  have 
been  sure  there  was,  and  that  it  justified  him." 

She  made  another  long  pause  there.  Her 
thoughts  seemed  to  have  strayed  away  and  to  be 
finding  some  comfort  in  the  case  she  had  just 
supposed.  "  But  it  wasn't  that  way  at  all,"  she 
said,  when  she  had  come  back  at  last  to  the 
cheerless  realit}^.  "  He  took  to  it  all  so  horribly 
naturally.  He  gradually  got  interested  in  the 
idea,  and  when  they  asked  him  to  do  it,  he  did 
it,  just  of  course.  He  didn't  see  any  harm  in 
being  a  traitor.  He  wasn't  ashamed  of  it ;  he 
didn't  mind  it  being  spoken  of.  He  even  made 
conversation  about  it  himself,  and  w^hen  he  saw 
that  I  despised  him  —  he  did  see  that,  he  didn't 
know  the  reason.  He  doesn't  know  now.  He 
thinks    it's    something    about    Winthrop.       Oh, 


136  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

why  couldn't  he  have  been  a  little  more  like 
Winthrop?" 

Her  voice  was  vibrant  with  scorn,  and  there 
was  something  besides  scorn  in  it,  too.  She 
sat  looking  out  to  sea  awhile  and  then  turned 
back  to  her  mother. 

"  That's  all.  Mummy,"  she  said.  "  Let's  go 
back  to  the  hotel.     I'm  tired." 

"  But  is  that  all,  Celia  ?  Isn't  there  some- 
thing else  for  you  to  tell  me  ? " 

She  had  half  risen,  but  now  she  sank  back 
again  in  her  seat.  The  flush  which  spread  from 
cheeks  to  forehead  showed  she  had  understood 
the  question. 

"  Yes,  that's  all ;  that's  truly  all.  He  has 
never —  There  is  no  more  to  tell.  I  think 
there  might  have  been,  if  I  —  It  makes  it  all 
the  worse.  Oh,  I  know  it's  better  in  some 
ways  that  it's  as  it  is !  But  I  haven't  any  right 
to  care  so  much.  I  ought  to  be  glad.  I  ought 
to  be  glad  for  the  South.  I  ought  to  be  glad 
that  there  are  Yankees  who'll  do  such  a  thing." 
Her  voice  broke  there,  but  she  recovered  it  im- 
mediately. "  But  I  can't  be  glad,  and  I  haven't 
any  right  to  hate  and  despise  the  thing  he's  done 
any  more  than  what  old  Mr.  Carver  has  done, 
or  plenty  of  other  people.  That's  almost  the 
hardest  —  ves,  I  think  that's  the  worst  of  all. 
Kiss  me,  Mummy." 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  plans  for  the  expedition  were  worked  out 
with  a  thoroughness  in  detail  which  seemed  to 
leave  little  room  for  mischance.  They  were  to 
start  about  dusk  on  the  afternoon  decided  upon. 
Three  days'  easy  running,  for  the  Caroline^  would 
bring  them  to  Cape  Fear  shortly  after  dark. 
The  moon  would  not  rise  that  night  until  nearly 
midnight,  so,  the  days  being  then  almost  at  their 
shortest,  they  would  have  six  good  hours  of 
darkness  in  which  to  dodge  through  the  fleet 
and  into  the  river.  They  had  as  good  a  pilot  as 
could  be  got,  —  Martin  had  seen  to  that,  —  the 
man  who  had,  that  very  week,  brought  the  Theo- 
dora out  of  the  same  port  that  they  were  bound 
for,  who  knew  as  much  of  the  special  conditions 
and  perils  there  as  it  was  possible  to  know  of 
anything  that  kept  changing  so  constantly. 

Mrs.  Townley  had  not  been  alone  in  her  un- 
thinking confidence  that  all  would  go  according 
to  plans.  All  the  party  —  leaving  Martin  out 
of  account,  for  no  one  could  tell  what  he  thought 
—  all  were  alike  in  regarding  success  as  a  fore- 
gone conclusion,  the  chickens  as  already  hatched, 
the  ship  as  good  as  safe  in  port.     That  feeling 

137 


138  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

was  natural  enough.  Already  other  craft,  not 
unlike  their  own,  were  beginning  to  appear  in 
these  waters,  some  triumphant  in  achievement, 
the  rest  almost  equally  triumphant  in  the  an- 
ticipation of  it.  Two  or  three  runners  had 
reported  vo^^ages  as  uneventful  as  any  in  time 
of  peace,  and  what  adventures  the  others  had 
had  seemed  mild  enough  in  the  telling.  Those 
that  had  come  to  grief,  those  that  had  been 
driven  aground  and  burned  amid  a  blaze  of  artil- 
lery and  Coston  lights,  those  that  had  been  taken 
alive  and  now,  rechristened  and  under  another 
flag,  were  running  with  the  hounds,  not  with  the 
hare,  —  those,  of  course,  had  never  come  back  to 
tell  the  tale  and  abate  the  spirits  of  the  survivors. 
But  even  their  misfortunes  had  almost  always 
had  something  rather  obvious  to  account  for 
them,  — a  glaring  error  of  judgment  on  the  part 
of  master,  so  glaring  that  no  one  else  could  ever 
have  thought  of  committing  it,  or  a  bit  of  ill- 
luck  so  perverse  that  it  could  hardly  happen  again. 
To  an}^  master  or  pilot  who  could  keep  his  wits 
about  him,  there  ought  to  be  no  risk  at  all. 

That  was  the  way  all  the  party  felt  about 
it  until  the  very  hour  of  departure,  until  the 
very  moment  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carver  crossed 
the  gang-plank  shoreward  and  the  improved 
oscillating  cj^linders  began  slowly  to  move  the 
noiseless  feathering  paddles.     Mrs.  Townley  and 


THE    BLOCKADE  139 

Celia,  and  Mr.  Odell,  —  for  he  too,  was  going 
through  to  establish  the  business  at  the  Wil- 
mington end,  —  all  gathered  at  the  rail  for  one  of 
those  long-range  conversations,  which,  in  spite  of 
previous  warnings  of  experience,  people  in  such 
circumstances  will  always  attempt. 

At  that  moment  to  all  of  them  the  notion 
occurred  that  there  was  a  whole  fleet  of  cruisers 
between  them  and  Wilmington,  any  one  of  which 
could  send  the  defenceless  Caroline  to  bottom 
with  a  single  shell,  whose  first  and  only  business 
just  now  was  to  prevent  enterprises  like  this 
from  succeeding.  All  but  Mr.  Odell  swallowed 
this  idea  as  well  as  they  could  in  silence,  but  he 
tried  to  make  a  joke  of  it. 

''  If  you  don't  hear  of  us  for  a  month,"  he 
cried  to  Mr.  Carver  ashore,  "  come  up  to  New 
York  and  bail  us  out  of  Fort  Hamilton." 

"  Where  ?  "  called  Mr.  Carver. 

"  Hamilton  —  Fort  Hamilton  !  "  shouted  Odell. 

There  being  another  Hamilton  at  Bermuda, 
Nassau's  one  great  rival  in  the  blockade-running 
trade,  Mr.  Carver  naturally  misunderstood,  and 
began  shouting  excited  questions  as  to  what  he 
meant  by  talking  about  Hamilton,  while  Mr. 
Odell,  his  voice  breaking  under  the  unnatural 
strain  he  had  put  upon  it,  tried  vainly  to  correct 
him,  until  the  increasing  distance  between  them 
finally  reduced  both  to  pantomime. 


140  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

Still  full  of  his  new,  disquieting  thoughts  about 
shells  and  cruisers,  Mr.  Odell,  after  they  were 
out  of  the  harbor,  sought  out  the  pilot,  thinking 
to  get  comfort  from  him.  After  some  semi- 
nautical  inquiries  as  to  the  state  of  the  glass  and 
the  prospects  for  fine  weather,  he  came  to  the 
subject  near  to  his  heart. 

<'  I  suppose,"  he  said,  as  nonchalantly  as  pos- 
sible, "  that  under  favorable  conditions  such  as 
we  have,  there's  practically  no  danger  at  all." 

Now,  the  pilot  was  a  sailor  to  begin  with,  and 
he  was  also  an  artist,  altogether  too  good  an 
artist  to  belittle  his  own  profession.  He  took  a 
very  large  chew  of  tobacco  and  a  very  long  look 
at  Mr.  Odell.  Then  he  spat  reflectively  over  the 
side.  "  Well,  now,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  where  did 
you  get  any  such  idea  as  that  ?  " 

Then,  after  an  inquiry  as  to  whether  Mr.  Odell 
had  sailed  into  that  port  before,  he  began  at  the 
beginning.  He  agreed  with  Mr.  Odell  in  express- 
ing small  regard  for  the  cruisers.  "  But,"  said 
he,  "  leave  that  out  entirely.  Say  that  they  cut 
no  figure  at  all  in  the  situation,  and  what's  the 
job  we've  got  laid  out  for  us  ?  " 

Well,  he  made  a  long  story  of  it,  and  whatever 
its  interest  may  have  been  intrinsically,  it  cer- 
tainly fascinated  Mr.  Odell.  In  the  main,  all 
that  he  said  was  true.  He  dwelt  at  length  upon 
the    terrors    of    Frying-pan    Shoals,    without,  it 


THE   BLOCKADE  141 

must  be  owned,  giving  them  more  than  was 
really  their  due.  He  told  direful  stories  of  "The 
Lump,"  and  if  they  had  not  all  happened  at  that 
time,  they  all  came  true  before  the  long  block- 
ade was  over,  and  surely  prophetic  license  is 
not  too  much  to  allow  a   pilot. 

"And,"  he  concluded,  "when  it  comes  to  find- 
ing a  harbor  entrance  that  shifts  at  every  storm 
or  lump  of  sea,  on  as  nasty  a  night  as  the  master 
can  pick  out,  with  never  a  buoy  or  beacon,  no 
light  but  w^mt's  in  your  own  binnacle  to  go  by, 
and  nothing  but  a  scud  of  flying  cloud  to  give 
you  the  range,  /  ain't  the  man  to  call  it  an 
easy  job.  And  I  ain't  said  nothing  about  the 
cruisers." 

At  that,  seeing  that  he  had  produced  the  effect 
he  sought,  the  pilot  lapsed  into  silence,  and  no 
further  inquiries  could  draw  from  him  more  than 
the  most  unsatisfactory  of  monosyllables. 

Mr.  Odell  then  left  him  hurriedly,  and  went  in 
search  of  Martin.  He  was  surprised  and  a  little 
inclined  to  be  indignant  at  not  finding  him  at  the 
post  of  danger  on  the  bridge,  and  his  indigna- 
tion very  nearly  betrayed  itself  openly,  when, 
after  looking  high  and  low  over  the  ship,  he 
went  to  the  least  likely  place  of  all,  and  there 
found  him  in  his  own  cabin,  contentedly  smok- 
ing his  pipe,  and  reading  a  well-thumbed  copy  of 
Maury's  "  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea." 


142  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

"  I  have  just  been  having  some  conversation 
with  our  ]ulot,"  lie  began.  "  It  seemed  to  me 
tliat  you  sliould  know  of  it  at  once  ;  so,  as  I  didn't 
find  you  on  the  bridge,  I  ventured  to  come  here." 

Whatever  Martin  may  have  guessed,  whether 
or  not  there  came  a  faint  smile  behind  his  face, 
he  replied  very  gravely,  and  with  great  concern:  — 

"  You  did  quite  right,  of  course.  Thank  you. 
Shall  I  call  the  pilot,  or  will  you  tell  me  what  he 
said  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  give  you  the  gist  of  it,"  said 
Mr.  Odell,  still  a  little  stiffly. 

The  pilot's  story  lost  nothing  in  the  telling. 
It  was  quite  apparent  that  they  were  going  to 
almost  certain  destruction,  that  nothing  short 
of  a  miracle,  whether  wrought  by  Providence  or 
by  the  pilot,  could  save  them.  In  conclusion, 
Mr.  Odell  suggested,  as  emphatically  as  was  con- 
sistent with  a  mere  suggestion,  that  they  give 
up  all  idea  of  getting  into  Wilmington  and 
make  instead  for  Charleston,  Savannah,  or 
some  other  port  where  there  was  some  hope  of 
success. 

Martin  said  nothing  until  he  had  finished,  and 
not  immediately  then.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that, 
while  he  was  putting  aside  his  Maury  and  de- 
liberating upon  his  answer,  Mr.  Odell  began  to 
feel  exactly  like  a  schoolboy  who  has  taken  a 
question   to    his    master  and    suddenly  becomes 


THE   BLOCKADE  143 

aware  that  he  has  asked  something  exceptionally 
silly  ;  or  like  the  recruit  who,  at  the  suggestion 
of  his  older  comrades,  has  just  asked  the  com- 
missary sergeant  for  his  "  sabre-ammunition.'* 

"  The  other  fellows  get  in,"  said  Martin. 
«  The  Theodora  has  gone  into  Wilmington  twice, 
and  so  has  the  Kate^  since  we  have  been  at 
Nassau.  This  same  pilot  has  taken  them  in 
himself." 

"  The  conditions  may  have  changed  —  " 

"A  little,"  said  Martin,  "but  for  the  better. 
They've  a  better  system  of  giving  you  the  ranges 
after  you  show  your  lights  than  they  had  a  month 
ago." 

A  very  fine  red  was  now  burning  in  Mr.  Odell's 
cheeks.  "  I  wish.  Captain,  that  you'd  dispense 
with  that  fellow's  services  as  soon  as  we  get 
into  Wilmington  if  we  do  get  in,  and  never 
employ  them  again.  He's  been  insolent  to  me ! 
He's  lied  to  me  ! " 

"Oh,  I  guess  he  hasn't  lied  to  you  —  or  not 
much,"  said  Martin.  "  You  see,  Mr.  Odell,  he 
naturally  wants  you  to  think  when  you  get  in 
that  you  owe  it  all  to  his  supernatural  skill,  that 
with  anybody  else  in  his  place  you'd  certainly 
have  been  lost ;  so  he  told  you  all  the  difficul- 
ties without  saying  anything  about  the  special 
ways  he  has  of  meeting  them.  He's  been  getting 
special  knowledge  for  this  sort  of  thing  ever  since 


lU  TRAITOK  AND    LOYALIST 

he  was  a  boy.  He  knows  liow  to  tell  where  ha 
is  and  to  find  a  harbor  entrance,  and  he's  no 
more  likely  to  run  on  The  Lump  than  you  are 
to  stumble  over  a  chair  in  your  own  drawing- 
room.  There  are  tricks  in  all  trades,  and  he 
w^ants  his  to  be  as  impressive  as  possible.  That's 
not  saying,  though,  that  the  job  he  has  isn't  a  dif- 
ficult one,  or  that  he  isn't  really  entitled  to  a  lot 
of  credit  every  time  he  does  it  successfully." 

However  it  may  be  in  others,  there  w^ere  a 
whole  catalogue  of  tricks  in  the  trade  of  block- 
ade-running. By  1863  they  had  all  been  discov- 
ered, and  w^ere  practised  by  everybody,  but  at 
the  beginning  one  had  to  find  them  out  for  him- 
self. Martin  was  about  to  learn  one  now,  and 
in  the  school  whose  lessons  one  is  most  unlikely 
to  forget. 

He  had  laid  his  course,  on  leaving  Nassau, 
straight  for  Hole-in-the-Wall,  as  any  good  navi- 
gator in  his  place  w^ould  have  done,  —  any  one 
except  an  old  blockade-runner,  had  there  been 
such  a  person  in  those  days. 

The  southern  extremitv  of  Great  Abaco  Island, 
which  lies  about  fifty  miles  north  by  east  from 
Nassau,  presents  itself  w^edge-wise  between  the 
main  Bahamas  Channel  and  the  Northwest 
Providence  Channel.  One  naturallv  sailed  as 
close  to  it  as  possible,  both  because  the  Great 
Abaco  light  gave  one  his  whereabouts  precisely, 


THE   BLOCKADE  145 

and  because  on  the  other  side  of  the  channel  lay 
the  dangerous  reefs  of  Eleuthera. 

Consequently  this  principal  corner  upon  so 
important  a  thoroughfare  soon  became  a  favorite 
point  of  vantage  for  Federal  cruisers,  and  from 
very  early  in  the  war  one  of  them  might  almost 
alv^ays  be  found,  loafing  about,  as  it  were,  with 
its  hands  in  its  pockets,  but  quite  ready  to  rush 
out  and  snap  up  any  luckless  runners  which  might 
come  by  that  way.  So  the  runners  soon  learned 
to  give  that  headland  a  wide  berth,  and  to  take 
their  chances  among  the  reefs  instead.  It  was 
a  trick  of  the  trade,  merely,  but  an  important 
one  to  know. 

Now,  as  we  have  said,  the  Caroline  was  steam- 
ing straight  along  for  Hole-in-the-Wall,  and  was, 
furthermore,  making  her  steam  with  a  medium 
quality  of  Welsh  coal,  which  is  by  no  means 
smokeless,  her  anthracite  being  husbanded  for 
time  of  danger.  This  economy  was  practised, 
not  because  anthracite  was  costly  —  for  in 
blockade-running  one  did  not  count  the  cost  — 
but  because  it  was  frequently  impossible  to  get 
it  at  any  price,  and  a  runner  without  any  of  it, 
unable  to  turn  her  wheels  without  making  smoke, 
was  in  a  perilous  case,  indeed.  So  the  Caroline^ 
steaming  easily  and  smoking  in  the  same  degree, 
drew  near  Abaco,  having  for  some  time  back 
made  out  the  light  very  clearly. 


146  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

The  moon  had  risen  a  little  before,  and  was 
already  lighting  up  the  sea  with  subtropical 
brilliancy.  The  passengers  were  gathered  aft, 
admiring  it  and  enjoying  the  lovely  calm  of  the 
evening,  for  the  air,  except  as  the  steamer  cleft 
a  way  through  it,  was  quite  still. 

"  It's  pleasant  to  have  some  light  to  go  by," 
observed  Mr.  Odell,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  And 
it  seems  safer,  too,  than  to  be  rushing  along 
among  all  these  little  islands  in  the  dark." 

Mrs.  Townley  agreed  with  him.  "  Though  I 
suppose  it  makes  very  little  difference,  really," 
she  said.  "  Sailors  seem  to  have  a  sixth  sense 
for  knowing  where  they  are  in  the  night." 

The  moon  did  make  a  difference,  however, 
and  a  large  one.  As  the  light  grew  brighter, 
Martin,  from  the  bridge,  threw  more  than  one 
anxious  glance  at  the  smoking  funnel.  It  was 
beginning  to  occur  to  him  that  perhaps  it  would 
be  better  to  go  somewhat  less  conspicuously 
past  this  important  "  four  corners  "  in  the  pub- 
lic highway.  He  sent  down  an  order  to  the 
engineers. 

"  Have  the  stokers  fire  more  carefully.  We're 
making  more  smoke  than  is  necessary." 

Just  as  he  had  given  the  order,  another  puff, 
blacker  than  ever,  belched  out  of  the  funnels, 
and  another  order  went  at  the  heels  of  the  first. 

"  Fire  with  anthracite." 


THE   BLOCKADE  147 

There  is  the  sixth  sense,  if  you  please,  Mrs. 
Townley ;  an  instinct  that  gives  warning  of  a 
danger  not  yet  perceptible,  that  rings  so  loud  an 
alarm,  that  practical  considerations,  so  called,  at 
once  give  place  to  it. 

Martin  was  scanning  the  sea  with  his  glass. 
There  seemed  to  be  nothing  certainly,  but  still  — 

He  low^ered  the  glass,  and  stood  irresolutely  a 
moment ;  then  in  three  strides  he  was  at  the 
signal  lever.  There  was  the  muffled  sound  of  a 
bell,  and  then  the  engines  stopped. 

There  is  always  at  sea  a  sharp  sensation  of 
dread  when,  without  warning,  a  ship's  great 
heart  suddenly  ceases  to  beat ;  and  on  this  voyage, 
with  the  thought  of  danger  not  far  below  the 
surface  in  every  one's  mind,  the  effect  was  intensi- 
fied. There  was  a  moment  when  not  a  soul  in 
the  ship  drew  breath.  The  little  group  of  pas- 
sengers aft,  the  blackened  men  in  the  stoke-hole, 
the  port  watch  dozing  in  the  forecastle,  the  cook 
in  his  galley  and  the  steward  near  the  cabin 
door,  suddenly  stiffened  in  whatever  attitudes  of 
rest  or  motion  this  alarm  had  surprised  them. 
Even  the  old  engineer  who  had  pulled  the 
lever  pressed  his  lips  tighter  together,  as  he 
stood  waiting  at  his  post  for  what  should  come 
next. 

It  might  be  a  splintering  crash  into  another 
ship,  or  into  a  half-hidden  coral  reef;  it  might 


148  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

be  the  scrape  of  a  long-boat  alongside  and  the 
tramp  of  feet  on  deck  as  a  prize  crew  from  some 
cruiser  took  possession  of  her ;  or  it  might  be 
nothing  at  all.  But,  brave  man  as  he  was,  his 
face  set  and  he  drew  his  breath  softly  as  he 
waited. 

A  silence,  complete  but  for  the  soft  rustle  as 
she  sliced  her  way  through  the  water,  fell  upon 
the  ship.  The  second  officer,  whose  watch  it 
was  and  who  was  also  on  the  bridge,  was  star- 
ing at  Martin  in  undisguised  amazement ;  for  the 
captain  was  standing,  his  hand  still  resting  on 
the  signal  lever,  his  eyes  lowered  to  the  deck, 
absentl}^,  as  a  man  overtaken  by  a  day-dream. 
This  was  their  captain  ! 

Martin  raised  his  eyes  and  read  what  was 
plain  enough  to  read  in  his  lieutenant's  face. 

"  Listen  !  "  he  said. 

And  then  the  other  heard  it.  Far  off  over  the 
water,  coming  from  nowhere,  from  everywhere, 
was  another  pulse,  another  heart-throbbing, 
racking  itself  in  the  utmost  agony  of  haste. 

"  It's  no  use  trying  to  get  her  bearing  by  ear 
on  a  night  like  this,"  said  Martin,  coolly.  "  Take 
your  glass,  Mr.  White,  and  see  if  you  can  make 
her  out.  We  can't  run  until  we  know  which 
way  to  go." 

He  himself  was  scanning  the  sea  as  he  said 
it.      Nothing,  —  and   after    thirty    seconds    still 


THE   BLOCKADE  149 

nothing,  —  nothing  but  a  tiny  shred  of  white,  a 
particle  of  silver  wire  glinting  on  the  sea.  He 
lowered  the  glass  and  jerked  the  lever  back 
again,  full  speed  ahead.  "Three  points  abaft 
the  beam,  Mr.  White,"  he  said. 

The  mate  had  his  glass  on  it  in  an  instant. 
The  gleaming  shred  needed  no  explanation.  It 
was  the  curl  and  break  of  a  wave  under  the  stem 
of  the  cruiser  as  she  gathered  way. 

Their  relative  positions  were  rather  favorable 
to  the  runner,  for  the  cruiser  had  to  go  round 
the  end  of  the  shoal  off  Hole-in-the-Wall,  whereas 
the  Caroline  was  clear  of  it.  Martin  sent  for  the 
first  engineer.  "  I  want  to  drop  him  before  sun- 
rise," he  said,  pointing  out  the  cruiser.  "  Get 
all  the  speed  out  of  this  craft  you  can.  Make  it 
your  first  consideration." 

The  man  said  he  would  do  his  best,  and  was 
going  away  just  as  Mr.  Odell  came  up. 

"  You're  going  to  get  us  safe  away  from  that 
rascal,  aren't  you,  Mr.  Engineer  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  captain  can  tell  you  better  than  I  about 
that,  sir." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say,  Captain  ?  " 

"If  he  hadn't  just  referred  to  me,  I'd  have 
referred  you  to  Mr.  Morgan.  The  best  I  can  say 
is  that  if  we  have  the  heels  of  her  we  shall  get 
off,  but  if  she  has  the  heels  of  us,  she's  pretty 
sure  to  catch  us." 


150  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Odell,  dryly,  flushing  a 
little. 

"  You  see,"  Martin  went  on,  "  there  won't  be 
any  more  darkness  till  to-morrow  evening,  so  we 
have  practically  no  chance  of  giving  her  the  slip 
in  any  way  but  by  running  straight  away  from 
her.  And  unless  we're  faster  we  can't  do  it. 
That's  the  question  we  are  going  to  try  now. 
I  should  think  that  in  an  hour  we  should  be 
able  to  tell  you  something  more  about  it.  As 
Mr.  Morgan  says,  the  best  we  can  do  is  all  we 
can  do." 

Mr.  Odell  never  forgot  as  long  as  he  lived 
what  doing  their  best  meant  aboard  the  Caro- 
line. They  stripped  her  upper  works  of  every- 
thing movable,  or  even  removable,  that  could 
hinder  the  rush  of  the  keen  night  air  across  her 
bare  decks.  They  fed  coal  into  her  roaring 
furnaces  until  her  funnels  scorched  the  deck 
planks,  until  the  decks  were  so  hot  they  blistered 
the  feet.  The  stokers,  who  changed  shifts  every 
twenty  minutes,  would  come  staggering  out  on 
deck  and  drop  exhausted  till  it  was  time  to  go 
down  into  hell  again.  And,  driven  by  so  fierce 
a  blast,  the  graceful,  slender  little  Caroline^ 
whose  usual  motion  was  so  smooth  and  effort- 
less, trembled,  shook,  jarred  from  stem  to  stern, 
and  seemed  fairly  to  cry  out  as  she  flew  along. 
It  was  impossible  to  tell  whether  it  was  all  to 


THE   BLOCKADE  151 

be  in  vain  or  not.  Fast  as  they  flew,  they  could 
always  see,  far  off  astern,  the  white  wreath 
under  the  stem  of  their  pursuer.  The  cruiser  was 
doing  her  best,  too,  and  one  '<  best "  seemed  quite 
as  good  as  another. 

There  was  no  thought  of  sleep  that  night  — 
no  thought  of  leaving  the  deck,  for  either  the 
heat  or  the  excitement  was  reason  enough  to 
make  staying  below  intolerable.  The  steward 
brought  out  two  canvas  chairs  for  Mrs.  Townley 
and  Celia,  while  Mr.  Odell  and  two  other  men 
who  were  going  through  as  passengers  had  their 
mattresses  brought  up  from  their  state-rooms. 
Every  ten  minutes  some  one  would  go  aft  to  the 
taffrail  for  another  look  through  the  glass,  and 
on  his  return  the  rest  w^ould  all  rouse  themselves 
and  ask  the  news,  only  to  get,  w^ith  slight  varia- 
tions, the  old  report  —  No  change. 

About  three  in  the  morning,  Martin  came 
down  from  the  bridge,  and  joined  Mr.  Odell,  w^ho 
happened  to  be  standing  by  the  rail.  "  I'd  like 
a  little  talk  with  you,"  he  said.  "  I  want  some 
information." 

"We  are  doing  the  best  we  can,"  he  went 
on,  after  waiting  till  one  of  the  other  passen- 
gers, who  had  strolled  up,  had,  somewhat  more 
jauntily,  strolled  away  again.  "  We're  doing 
our  best,  but  our  best  isn't  enough.  We  haven't 
gained    three    lengths    on    that    chap     the    last 


152  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

three  hours.  I  don't  believe  we've  lost  much 
more  than  that,  but,  as  I  say,  that  isn't  good 
enough." 

"  He's  saying  exactly  the  same  thing  himself, 
I  dare  say." 

"  He  may  be  saying  it  to  his  men,  but  I  guess 
he's  saying  to  himself  that  if  he  can  keep  us 
hull  up  till  sunrise  he's  got  us.  And  I'm  in- 
clined to  agree  with  him.  Any  change  that 
comes  is  likely  to  help  him.  If  he  can  get  a 
breeze  of  the  right  sort  or  a  bit  of  lumpy  sea  or 
another  cruiser,  and  all  three  are  likely  enough, 
he'll  have  us.  So  I  think  it's  necessary  to  do 
better.  I  rather  think  we  shall  have  to  lighten 
ship." 

"  To  —  what  ?  " 

"  To  pitch  part  of  our  cargo  overboard." 

"  I  shouldn't  want  to  do  that  unless  it  was 
absolutely  necessary." 

''  I  shan't  decide  for  half  an  hour.  I'd  like 
you  to  tell  me  what  you  think  it  best  to  sacri- 
fice. It's  just  a  question,  I  suppose,  of  how 
much  everything's  worth  a  pound." 

Mr.  Odell  hesitated.  "  Yes  —  or  —  well,  not 
exactly.  There  is  another  consideration,  and 
that  is,  what  would  we  like  least  to  have  them 
find  on  board  if  they  took  us."  Then,  half 
apologetically,  he  went  on,  "I  suppose  there 
might    be  a  difference  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 


THE   BLOCKADE  153 

perhaps,  between  taking  arms  or  ammunition 
through  the  blockade  and  taking  other  things." 

Martin  was  frowning  thoughtfully.  "  I  sup- 
pose there  would,"  he  said  abruptly,  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Odell  went  on,  "  I  should  say  if 
you  decide  to  lighten  the  cargo  you'd  much 
better  send  all  heavy  hardware  overboard.  And 
I  should  say,  too,  I  think,  that  we'd  better  not 
make  it  part  of  our  cargo  a  second  time.  And 
we'll  put  up  with  one  half-loaf  this  trip  and 
try  to  make  up  for  it  by  and  by." 

He  was  rather  less  philosophical  about  it  when 
he  actually  began  to  see  the  heavy  cases  tumbling 
off  astern,  and  he  looked  aft  at  the  speck  of  a 
cruiser  with  no  friendly  eye.  "  If  we  had  one  big 
gun  instead  of  all  these  muskets,  I'd  be  tempted 
to  lie  up  a  bit  and  drop  a  shell  into  her." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  had  the  makings  of  a 
pirate  about  you,"  said  Martin.  "  That's  what 
it  would  be,  you  know,  and  no  mistake  about  it, 
if  we  fired  into  her.  Piracy !  And  the  trap- 
door and  the  halter  for  all  of  us ! " 

It  was  a  long  job  getting  the  heavy  cases  over- 
board, but  by  the  time  it  was  completed  they 
had  alread}^  gained  perceptibly  on  their  pursuers. 
By  the  time  the  dawn  had  brightened  into  day 
she  was  all  but  lost  again,  the  top  of  her  funnels 
and  her  two  raking  masts  alone  being  visible. 

They  had  not  yet  done  with  her,  though,  tor 


154  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

just  at  that  time  a  light-to-fresh  westerly  breeze 
sprang  up,  and  a  little  later,  when  Martin  had 
gone  down  into  the  cabin  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  the 
mate  came  to  him  in  great  excitement,  reporting 
the  cruiser  as  being  hull  up  again  and  rapidly 
overhauling  them  under  sail.  "  And  this  darned 
little  teapot  hasn't  a  rag  of  canvas  to  bless  her- 
self with ! " 

"Keep  her  as  she  bears,"  said  Martin,  quite 
easily,  and  he  finished  his  coffee  before  he  went 
on  deck.  The  cruiser  was  plainly  in  sight  when 
he  mounted  the  bridge,  but  he  hardly  cast  a 
glance  at  her.  He  had  just  looked  at  his  barom- 
eter. Now  he  took  a  casual  survey  of  the  sky. 
Then :  — 

"  Port  your  helm,"  he  called  down  to  the 
quartermaster  in  the  wheel-house,  "and  steer  a 
course  due  east." 

It  was  so  simple  a  trick  that  the  mate  was 
never  afterward  able  to  persuade  himself  that  it 
was  not  he  who  had  thought  of  it.  Both  vessels 
were  of  course  steaming  faster  than  this  light 
breeze  was  blowing.  With  it  almost  abeam  the 
cruiser  could  still  use  it  to  a  great  advantage, 
but  with  it  directly  abaft  it  was  reduced  to  a 
minus  quantity.  It  took  her  sails  aback,  dead- 
ened her  way,  and  a  very  few  minutes  after  she 
had  come  around  on  the  new  course  the  watchers 
on  the  Caroline  saw  her,  again  under  bare  poles, 


THE   BLOCKADE  155 

dropping  off  astern.  They  did  not  see  her  again, 
and  after  making  a  wide  detour,  for  caution's 
sake,  the  Caroline  again  headed  for  Cape  Fear. 

It  will  be  better,  perhaps,  to  try  to  get  a 
juster  idea  than  the  pilot  succeeded  in  giving 
Mr.  Odell  of  the  difficulties  which  attended  run- 
ning the  blockade  into  Wilmington.  The  city 
lies  on  the  Cape  Fear  River,  about  thirty  miles 
from  its  mouth,  but  the  river  flows  south, 
so  nearly  parallel  to  the  coast  that  the  distance 
in  a  direct  line  from  the  city  to  the  sea  is  only 
six  or  seven  miles.  The  river  had  in  those  days 
—  it  has  been  changed  since  —  two  channels  to 
the  sea.  The  main  channel  lay  straight  on  south- 
ward ;  the  other,  turning  to  the  left,  the  east,  led 
out  past  Federal  Point,  through  New  Inlet.  On 
this  point  Fort  Fisher,  famous  in  the  annals  of 
the  war,  had  already  assumed  formidable  pro- 
portions. The  other  entrance,  or  main  channel, 
was  commanded  by  Fort  Caswell. 

Between  these  two  channels  lay  Smith  Island, 
projecting  southward  into  the  point  w^hose  best 
description  is  in  its  name,  Cape  Fear ;  and  still 
southward  from  the  cape,  extending  fifteen  miles 
out  to  sea,  lie  Frying-pan  Shoals.  The  name  is 
a  little  misleading.  Smith's  Island  is  really  the 
frying-pan,  and  the  shoals  the  handle. 

Going   around    this  handle  made  a   journey, 


156  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

from  one  channel  entrance  to  the  other,  of  nearly 
forty  miles ;  so,  from  the  blockader's  point  of 
view,  the  two  were  as  entirely  distinct  as  if  they 
belonged  to  different  ports.  By  day  and  with  a 
smooth  sea,  a  light-draft  steamer  could  contrive  to 
creep  across  the  shoals  at  various  points,  but  as 
the  sea  was  seldom  smooth  and  the  result  of  the 
attempt  uncertain  enough  at  the  best,  it  was  not 
often  done. 

To  the  outward-bound  runner  this  choice  of 
two  channels  was  a  very  distinct  advantage. 
He  could  slip  down  the  river,  anchor  at  Smith- 
ville,  and  wait  a  favorable  chance  at  one  door 
or  the  other  to  get  out.  But  the  runner  bound 
for  Wilmington  had  to  decide  which  entrance  to 
make  for  when  he  was  still  well  out  at  sea,  and 
then  to  take  his  chance  with  conditions  as  he 
found  them. 

Very  late  indeed  in  her  fourth  night  out  of 
Nassau,  the  Caroline  came  limping  cautiously 
along  the  west  side  of  Frying-pan  Shoals,  bound 
for  the  main  channel ;  she  had  already  had  a  fair 
share  of  experiences,  even  for  a  blockade  runner, 
for,  after  turning  out  of  her  course  to  shake  oif 
the  cruiser,  she  had  encountered  a  storm  which 
tossed  her  about,  lightened  as  she  was  of  the 
main  part  of  her  cargo,  like  a  shuttlecock,  had 
damaged  her  starboard  paddle,  and  had  threat- 
ened to  roll  her  funnels  right  out  of  her.     The 


THE   BLOCKADE  157 

passengers  had  been  so  acutely  miserable  that 
their  relief  on  getting  into  smooth  water  again 
made  getting  past  the  cruisers  a  minor  considera- 
tion altogether. 

Martin  and  the  pilot  were  both  looking  rather 
grave.  To  begin  with  they  did  not  know  exactly 
where  they  were,  for  the  sky  had  been  heavily 
overcast  since  morning,  and  now  that  the  clouds 
were  to  be  of  capital  assistance  to  them  in  veil- 
ing the  moon,  which  was  by  now  high  up  in  the 
sky,  they  threatened  to  break  up  and  reveal  the 
Caroline,  right  amid  the  fleet.  But  both  men 
agreed  that  it  was  better  to  run  this  chance  than 
to  put  to  sea  again.  For,  with  the  steamer  in 
her  present  condition,  another  long  chase  would 
almost  certainly  have  a  different  result. 

Somewhere  before  them  in  the  velvet-black 
night  towered  Bald-head  with  its  abandoned 
lighthouse.  Somewhere  was  a  rank  of  sleepless 
cruisers,  silent,  alert.  Somewhere  was  a  chan- 
nel, if  they  could  but  find  it,  and  a  way  to 
safety. 

They  had  been  crawling  along  for  more  than 
an  hour,  taking  soundings  constantly,  for  that 
was  the  only  way  of  determining  their  where- 
abouts, when  the  pilot,  who  stood  by  Martin  on 
the  bridge,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  pointed  forward. 
Far  off  there  glowed,  through  the  darkness,  a  dim 
point  of  light,  visible  at  all  only  to  practised  eyes. 


158  TKAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

"  What  is  it  ?  Not  the  light-ship  ?  "  queried 
Martin. 

"  No,  she  won't  show  her  light  till  we  ask  for 
it.  It's  a  little  special  arrangement  the  Yankees 
have  for  helping  us  through.  The  middle  ship 
in  the  line  alwaj^s  shows  a  light.  It  gives  the 
harbor  entrance  as  good  as  old  Bald-head  Light 
itself  could." 

"  It's  alwaj's  the  middle  ship  that  shows  the 
light  ?  "  said  Martin,  incredulously. 

The  pilot  chuckled.  "  It  is  'most  too  good  to 
be  true.     And  I  suppose  it's  too  good  to  last." 

"  Too  good  to  have  lasted  as  long  as  this,  I'm 
afraid,"  said  ]\lartin. 

"  Well,  maybe.  But  it's  all  we've  got  to  go 
by  to-night,  so  we'll  just  hope  for  the  best. 
How  about  it  ?  Are  3'ou  ready  to  make  a  try 
for  it?" 

"  Just  a  moment,"  said  Martin.  He  sent  a 
message  to  the  engine-room.  "  Tell  Mr.  Morgan 
that  the  fleet  is  sighted,  and  ask  if  he  has  steam 
enough  to  make  a  dash  for  it." 

"  Steam  enough,"  came  back  the  answer. 

Then  on  every  muscle,  every  nerve,  every 
faculty,  there  came  a  quiet  pulling  up  of  the 
tension.  Martin  nodded  to  the  pilot.  "  All 
readv  !  "  he    said. 

Then  silently,  stealthily,  the  Caroline  began 
creeping  up   for  her  spring.     The  cruiser's  light 


THE  BLOCKADE  159 

was  slowly  rising  higher  above  the  water.  It 
was  so  nearly  time,  the  moment  for  the  dash  so 
near  to  the  razor  edge  of  the  present,  that  wait- 
ing for  it  seemed  intolerable. 

Martin  touched  the  pilot's  elbow,  and  as  he 
spmi  round  pointed  to  the  east.  The  clouds 
were  breaking  and  rolling  off,  leaving  great 
patches  of  moonlit  sky. 

"  We'll  have  the  light  full  on  us  in  three 
minutes,"  whispered  the  pilot,  simply.  "  Well, 
it's  now  or  not  at  all ;    what  do  you  say  ? " 

Martin  nodded.      "  Now,  of  course,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  I  was  —     What  in  hell  —  " 

The  light  had  been  penetrating  farther  into 
the  black  west  every  instant,  and  as  the  pilot 
laid  his  hand  on  the  signal  lever,  in  the  very  act 
of  pulling  it  over  to  full  speed,  he  saw  right 
before  him  a  headland  with  a  white  lighthouse 
on  top  of  it.  Bald-head !  The  cruiser  which  had 
shown  her  light  was  no  longer  in  the  middle  of 
the  line,  but  at  the  southeast  end  of  it. 

He  might  have  made  his  dash  straight  through 
from  where  he  was,  and  he  might  have  got  her 
across  the  shoal  water  in  safety.  But  perhaps 
he  had  forgotten  for  the  moment  how  little  the 
Caroline  drew  now  that  part  of  lier  cargo  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  or  perhaps  his  nerve  had 
been  shaken  by  this  sudden  discovery  of  the 
mistake    he    had  made.     Whatever    the  reason, 


160  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

instead  of  the  "  Full  speed  ahead,"  which  Martin 
still  expected,  it  was  "  Stop,"  and  then  "  Astern." 

Just  as  she  was  gathering  way,  the  moon 
came  out  clear.  But  they  were  not  so  near  the 
ships  now,  and  there  was  still  an  even  chance  of 
her  getting  off  unobserved,  in  which  case,  should 
the  sky  cloud  over  again,  they  could  make  an- 
other attempt  that  night.  So  the  Caroline  was 
still   moving  slowly,  cautiously. 

But  there  were  sharp  eyes  in  the  fleet. 
Though  the  watch  w^as  constant,  it  was  keen, 
and  just  as  those  aboard  the  Caroline  we^^:^  begin- 
ning to  think  themselves  safe,  the  glare  of  a 
Coston  light  and  the  flight  of  a  rocket  straight 
in  their  direction  told  them  that  they  were 
discovered. 

"  We'll  have  to  run  for  it  now,"  said  the  pilot, 
"but  we  ought  to  get  off  handily  enough." 

As  if  in  mockery  of  his  confidence,  two  more 
rockets  rose  at  the  same  instant,  one  in  the 
south,  the  other  in   the  southwest. 

The  pilot  laughed  aloud.  "•  Damn  such  luck  !  " 
he  said.  "  Well,  it's  all  up.  Captain.  We  may 
as  well  come  down  before  they  begin  dropping 
shells  instead  of  rockets  on  us."  He  stopped  the 
engines  as  he  said  it. 

At  sight  of  the  rockets,  the  passengers,  Mrs. 
Townley  and  Celia,  as  well  as  the  others,  had 
come  hurrying  aft  to  the  bridge. 


THE   BLOCKADE  161 

"  What's  that  you  say,  Pilot  ?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Odell. 

"  They've  caught  us,  sir,  like  a  rat  in  a  trap, 
damn  them ! " 

Martin  had  been  looking  back  at  Bald-head,  at 
the  cruisers,  at  the  sky.  Now  he  spoke.  "  Not 
yet,  I  think.  Pilot.  One  of  us  is  going  to  try  to 
get  her  off.     Are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  you  either,"  said  the  pilot,  —  "  not 
while  I  command  this  ship,  and  until  we're  out- 
side Frying-pan  I  do.  Mr.  White,"  —  he  turned 
to  the  mate  —  "  show  some  sort  of  a  light  before 
they  begin  firing  on  us." 

''  Mr.  White,"  said  Martin,  "  stay  where  you 
are." 

Neither  of  these  men  had  ever  sailed  under 
Captain  Martin  Carver  before.  They  knew  he 
had  been  a  "  wind-jammer,"  and  steam  had, 
away  back  in  those    days,  a  contempt   for  sail. 

"  I  think  the  pilot  is  right,  sir,"  said  the  mate. 
"  They'd  shoot  us  to  pieces  if  we  tried  to  get 
through  in  this  light." 

"  I  shall  take  this  ship  in,"  said  Martin,  very 
quietly.  "  Will  you  go  in  as  second  mate,  or  in 
irons  as  a  mutineer  ?     Pilot,  leave  the  bridge  !  " 

The  pilot  hesitated  a  moment,  then  went  al- 
most precipitately.  Whatever  menace  may  have 
accompanied  the  order  to  him  was  unspoken. 

"  Now,  Mr.  White  ?  " 

M 


162  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  mate,  simply. 

"You  will  take  the  wheel  yom-self.  I  mean 
to  try  to  take  the  Caroline  across  the  Frying-pan. 
Put  3^our  helm  hard  over  to  starboard,  please," 
and  he  signalled  the  engines,  "Ahead,  slow!" 

And  then,  for  long,  long  hours,  or  for  a  little 
under  thirty  minutes,  according  as  one  went  by 
guess  or  by  chronometer,  they  worked  the  Caro- 
line across  Frying-pan  Shoals.  There  was,  Mar- 
tin knew,  a  pretty  well-defined  crease  from  one 
side  to  the  other,  not  far  from  their  present 
whereabouts,  and,  moving  very  slowly,  taking 
soundings  every  ten  fathoms,  they  felt  their  way 
along  toward  it. 

Before  he  had  found  it  Martin  had  an  almost 
mutinous  crew.  They  did  not  know  him,  to 
begin  with.  They  had  never  gone  with  him 
through  a  hundred  perils,  as  the  old  Crosses 
crew  had.  Even  at  that,  for  a  dash,  for  any- 
thing that  demanded  the  utmost  effort  of  action, 
he  could  have  carried  them  all,  with  a  cheer. 
But  this  crawling  along  two  miles  an  hour, 
with  half  a  dozen  cruisers  converging  upon 
them,  with  nothing  to  wait  for  but  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end  of  a  rain  of  shot  and  shell, 
this  was  another  matter ;  this,  they  said,  was 
not  what  they  signed  for.  They  gathered,  clam- 
orous, protesting,  at  the  foot  of  the  bridge 
ladder. 


THE   BLOCKADE  163 

"  Look  at  the  sky,"  said  Martin,  curtly.  "  I 
did  before  I  started." 

His  speech  was  interrupted  by  the  scream  of 
a  shell.  <'  If  they  can't  make  better  practice 
than  that  by  moonlight,  how  will  they  see  us 
in  the  dark  ?  A  little  more  to  port,  Mr.  White. 
Now  go  back  to  your  places.  You'll  have  a 
yarn  to  spin  for  the  next  twenty  years." 

The  skies  had  turned  friendly  at  last ;  a 
heavy  curtain  of  cloud  was  again  rolling  across. 
The  next  two  or  three  shells  improved  the  situa- 
tion a  little,  for  they  showed  what  difficulty  the 
cruisers  w^ere  finding  in  getting  the  range.  And 
three  minutes  later  they  found  their  channel. 

Their  channel,  indeed !  Slowly,  even  more 
slowdy,  stopping,  backing,  going  ahead  again  into 
what  promised  to  be  deeper  w^ater,  only  to  find 
the  promise  a  delusion,  but  still  gradually  mak- 
ing progress,  gradually  leaving  the  cruisers  be- 
hind, and  at  last,  at  last,  under  a  black  sk}^, 
coming  out  into  deep  water  again. 

"  Starboard  your  helm,  Mr.  White,"  said  Cap- 
tain Carver ;  "  lay  the  course  northeast  by 
north." 

The  mate  knew  his  man  by  this  time,  and  he 
was  not  surprised,  but  he  grinned  joyously  as 
he  spun  the  wheel  over,  and  turned  the  Caro- 
line's head  landw^ard  toward  Wilmington  again 
that  night. 


164  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

"Mr.  Pilot,"  said  Martin,  addressing  a  figure 
at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  "  will  you  take  us  in 
through  New  Inlet  ?  " 

He  came  on  the  bridge  and  took  off  his  hat. 
"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

They  slipped  along  close  to  the  eastern  side 
of  Smith's  Island,  and  the  narrow  extension  of 
it  to  northward  that  divides  Buzzard's  Bay 
from  the  sea ;  then  silently  they  approached  the 
south  end  of  the  cordon  of  cruisers  across  New 
Inlet,  close,  close  inshore,  —  for  the  Caroline 
would  almost  have  tried  her  paddles  on  dry 
land  after  to-night's  experiences,  —  and  close, 
horribly  close  to  the  watching  cruiser  at  the 
end  of  the  line.  They  could  hear  the  watch 
tramping  her  decks,  they  could  hear  the  low 
hum  of  steam  in  her  valves,  and  then  the 
sounds  faded  into  the  distance  astern. 

Then,  a  light  cautiously  displayed  on  the 
shore  side  of  the  Caroline,  and  from  the  shore, 
low  down,  an  answering  beam,  and  another 
from  higher  up,  giving  the  range.  And  a  few 
minutes  later,  all  need  of  caution  past,  they 
were  safe  under  the  guns  of  Fort  Fisher. 

In  the  gray  dawn  they  came  to  anchor  off 
Smithville,  and  as  the  Caroline  might  be  de- 
tained there  for  some  time,  it  was  arranged 
that  Mrs.  Townley  and  Celia  and  Mr.  Odell 
should   go   up    to   the   city   in   a    little    steamer 


THE   BLOCKADE  165 

which  was  about  to  start.  As  they  were  leaving, 
Mrs.  Townley  came  up  to  Martin. 

"  I'm  sorry  it  must  be  good-by,"  she  said. 
"  I  hope  that  sometime  —  We  owe  you  a  great 
deal,  Celia  and  I,  and  you  won't  think  we've 
forgotten  it,  will  you  ?  And  you'll  let  me  say 
good-by  for  her,  too.  She —  Oh,  here  she 
comes  ! " 

Greatly  to  her  mother's  surprise,  for  that  Mrs. 
Townley  should  say  good-by  for  her  had  been 
arranged  between  them,  she  came  straight  up 
to  Martin.  She  was  not  pale,  as  from  a  dis- 
tance he  had  seen  she  was  yesterday,  and  her 
eyes  were  bright  as  though  unwearied  by  the 
long  night's  watching. 

Their  eyes  met  for  the  first  time  since  —  how 
well  they  both  remembered  it  —  the  day  in  John 
Carver's  library  when  her  look  had  said  she  de- 
spised him  and  had  denied  him  the  reason. 

What  Celia  saw  was  this  face  she  knew  so 
well,  intrenched  with  lines  which  all  the  tempests 
of  half  a  score  of  years  had  not  put  there ;  she 
saw  his  eyes — clear,  steady,  loyal — asking,  plead- 
ing, for  the  reason. 

And  what  he  saw  was  a  look  that  spoke,  that 
pleaded,  that  seemed  almost  to  cry  out,  and  yet 
denied.  He  saw  her  eyes  fill  suddenly  with  tears, 
yet  proudly  hold  level  with  his  own. 

She  held  out  her  hand.     '<■  Good-by,"  she  said. 


PART   IV 

THE  SPY 


CHAPTER   X 

In  a  small  cottage  on  one  of  Wilmington's 
more  modest  streets  the  Townleys  had  lived 
since  the  day,  three  months  ago,  when  Martin 
had  brought  them  through  the  blockade.  It  was 
on  that  same  day  that  they  found  Harper  Junior, 
who  had  been  wounded  at  Ball's  Bluff,  sick  in  the 
hospital.  To  this  little  house  they  had  brought 
him,  and  here  they  had  slowly  nursed  him  back 
to  health. 

The  time  had  gone  swiftly,  for  in  the  hours 
not  devoted  to  their  own  invalid  they  had  been 
working  might  and  main,  making  clothes,  band- 
ages, delicacies,  for  the  other  sons  and  fathers 
who  were  fighting  so  gallantly,  sleeping  wet  and 
marching  hungry  for  the  Cause.  For  one  week, 
whose  hours  had  been  so  precious  as  to  be  almost 
painful,  Colonel  Townley  himself  had  been  with 
them.  They  had  parted  with  him,  and  now  they 
were  facing  another  separation. 

Harper  had  twice  before  appealed  to  the  post 
surgeon  to  send  him  back,  and  had  twice  been 
condemned  to  a  longer  convalescence ;  but  Fort 
Donelson  had  fallen  since  the  last  time,  and  to- 
day, after    frowning  over    him   for  a  while,  he 

169 


170  TRAITOR  AND    LOYALIST 

delivered  an  opinion  to  the  effect  that  the 
youngster  had  no  business  at  the  front  for  another 
fortnight,  but,  as  he  would  insist  on  fretting 
himself  into  a  fever  at  home,  he  might  as  well 
pack  himself  off  at  once.  So  the  boy  had  joyfully 
got  his  traps  together,  put  on  his  new  uniform, 
and  made  his  plans  to  start  to-morrow. 

Out  of  doors,  the  winter  rain  was  pelting  down 
steadily,  and  it  was  hard  to  keep  a  part  of  the 
cold  and  cheerlessness  from  getting  within.  They 
made  the  best  they  could  of  what  means  they 
had, — the  best  the  South  afforded,  —  but  the  room 
was  only  half  lighted  by  the  two  poor  candles, 
and  only  half  warmed  by  the  small  stove.  All 
of  them  had  drawn  up  close  about  it,  Mrs. 
Townley  in  the  middle,  with  one  of  her  children 
at  either  hand. 

There  was  not  much  to  say,  or  perhaps  there 
was  so  much  that  it  choked  utterance.  Even 
Harper,  whose  cheerful  spirit  was  seldom  clouded 
over,  was  often  silent  for  long  together ;  and  the 
two  women  could  hardly  make  head  at  all  against 
the  grim  fact  of  the  war  and  the  grim  uncertainty 
of  the  future,  which  lay  so  heavily  on  their  spirits. 

"  Mother's  quite  tired  out,"  said  the  boy,  at 
last.  "  You  mustn't  let  her  work  so  hard,  Celia. 
Don't  you  think  she'd  better  go  to  bed  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  we'd  better  all  go.  But  we  don't 
want  to,  do  we,  Mummy  ?  " 


THE   SPY  171 

«'  Oh,  yes,  presently,"  Harper  answered.  "  But 
you  mustn't  wait  another  minute,  mother  ;  you've 
done  too  much  to-day." 

The  mother  rose,  smiling,  but  rather  faintly, 
"  Don't  stay  up  too  long,"  and  with  a  light  touch 
of  her  lips  on  his  forehead  she  was  gone. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Celia  demanded,  with  a  good 
deal  of  surprise.     "  Secrets  from  mother  !  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  that  they're  secrets.  But 
I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  Celia.  I 
have  wanted  to  have  it  for  a  long  while,  and  this 
is  our  last  chance.  I  —  I  hoped  you'd  tell  me. 
But  I  can't  go  away  and  leave  my  little  sister  in 
trouble  without  knowing  what  the  trouble  is." 

"  Was  I  ever  your  little  sister.  Harper  ?  Yes, 
I  remember  I  was  once.  But  Harper  dear  — " 
she  leaned  forward,  resting  her  hands  on  his 
knees  —  ^'  I'm  a  great  deal  older  than  you  —  so 
much  older !  And  there  isn't  any  trouble  to  tell, 
to  talk  about  —  " 

He  frowned  thoughtfully,  and  was  for  a  little 
while  silent.  When  he  began  to  speak,  it  was 
with  a  little  hesitation. 

"  I  know  something  —  a  very  little  —  about 
it.     Dollv  has  told  me  —  " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  dry  little  laugh, 
her  lips  bending  in  a  sort  of  scornful  amusement. 
"  Oh,  Dolly  !  Yes,  Doll}^  is  never  going  to  speak 
to  me  again  as  long  as  she  lives." 


172  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

The  hot  color  came  flaming  into  his  face ;  he 
rose,  and  drew  himself  erect.  "  There's  no  use 
in  trying  to  talk  about  it,  then.  I  am  under  a 
misapprehension.  I  thought  you  really  cared  for 
her."  So  far  very  stiffly,  but  as  he  went  on 
he  forgot  this  artificial  dignity.  "  She  cares  for 
you.  She's  been  loyal  to  you  through  every- 
thing. She's  stood  up  for  you,  and  when  they 
tried  to  say  things  against  you,  she  stopped  them. 
And  she  does  that  yet.  And  if  you  aren't  more 
loyal  to  her  than  you  seem  to  be,  why,  I've  been 
mistaken  in  you.     That's  all." 

She  looked  at  him,  not  hardly,  as  a  moment 
ago,  nor  angrily,  as  he  had  expected,  but  very 
thoughtfully,  very  keenly,  a  little  wistfully,  and 
at  last  a  smile  came  into  her  face.  She  rose, 
and  went  to  where  he  stood,  and  kissed  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  hurt  you,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I 
didn't  altogether  understand.  And  you  don't 
understand,  either.  I  do  care  for  Dolly,  very, 
very  much.  Not  so  much,  perhaps,  as  you  care 
for  her,  or  as  she  cares  for  you.  I'm  very  happy 
about  that,  if  it's  true.  Harper.  About  her  quar- 
rel with  me,  time  will  wear  that  out,  I'm  sure, 
and  I'll  do  my  best  to  help  it.  It's  nothing  to 
make  a  mystery  about.  Mother  knows  all  about 
it ;  in  a  way,  she's  included  in  it,  too.  AVe  don't 
talk  about  it  because  it's  a  long  story,  and  a  very 
stupid  one.    You  know  a  good  deal  of  it  already. 


THE   SPY  173 

But  if  you  like,  I'll  begin  at  the  beginning  and 
tell  you  all  about  it." 

"  I'd  like  to  hear  it  very  much,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  the  beginning,"  said  Celia,  "  was  when 
we  had  just  come  back  home.  Everybody  we 
knew  wanted  to  hear  about  our  adventures,  as 
they  called  them.  We  really  hadn't  had  any, 
except  running  the  blockade,  and  that  had  been 
in  all  the  papers  and  everybody  knew  it  already. 
But  that  wasn't  what  they  wanted  at  all.  They 
wanted  all  the  particulars  about  our  stay  in  New 
York.  And  we  just  told  them  the  truth,  or  part 
of  it.  You  know  what  the  truth  is.  You  know 
how  well  the  Carvers  treated  us,  and  how  con- 
siderate they  always  were  of  our  feelings.  They 
made  themselves  our  friends,  too.  And  they 
simply  jeered  at  the  idea  of  our  being  in  the 
way  or  putting  them  out  at  all,  though  of 
course  we  did.  But  if  they  hadn't  been  as  nice 
as  that,  do  you  suppose  we'd  have  lived  with 
them,  and  have  borrowed  money  of  Mr.  Carver 
and —  Don't  you  know  we'd  have  w^orked  or 
starved  to  death  rather  than  be  under  obligations 
to  any  other  sort  of  people  for  one  day  ?  Oh, 
of  course  you  do,  but  it  makes  me  excited  just 
to  think  about  it ! 

"  We  didn't  tell  all  that  to  everybody,"  she 
went  on,  "  but  when  we  did  tell  that  ^  gentlemen 
and  ladies  up  North  were    just   like  gentlemen 


174  TRAITOR  AND    LOYALIST 

and  ladies  anywhere  else,  and  that  we  hadn't  had 
any  adventures  at  all,  that  no  one  hurt  us  or 
insulted  us,  or  threatened  us,  or  advised  us  to 
leave  town,  why,  they  just  shook  their  heads 
and  went  on  talking  exactly  as  if  we'd  said  they 
had  done  all  these  things.  I  know  how  they 
think  about  it.  We  thought  so  ourselves,  once. 
When  we  sailed  into  New  York  harbor  we 
thought  we  might  be  tarred  and  feathered,  per- 
haps that  very  day.  And  we've  felt  dreadfully, 
dreadfully  silly  about  it  ever  since.  I  don't 
wonder  that  people  here  think  the  way  they  do 
about  it,  but  they  ought  at  least  to  take  our 
word  for  w^hat  happened  to  us.  They  wouldn't, 
though,  and  the  more  we  said  the  worse  it  grew. 
And  some  people,  not  our  friends  of  course,  but 
some  people  who  knew  us  and  ought  to  know 
better,  really  think  we've  turned  Yankee  and 
have  come  back  to  be  spies,  or  something ! " 

"  More  people  than  you  think,  I'm  afraid,"  he 
said  gravely. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry.  It  is  hard,  because  it 
makes  us  lonely  and  unhapp3^  It's  worse  for 
Mummy  than  it  is  for  me.  I  haven't  thought 
so  very  much  about  it.  But  it's  not  in  our 
hands  at  all.  If  it  must  be  so,  it  must.  You 
wouldn't  have  us  tell  things  that  weren't  true 
about  people  who  were  so  good  to  us.  We  don't 
talk  about  it  at  all  now,  and   that's   the  best 


THE   SPY  175 

we  can  do.  We  can't  unsay  what  we've  said 
already." 

"  I  know  they  were  good  to  you,"  Harper  ad- 
mitted slowly,  "  and  of  course  I  wouldn't  have 
you  say  they  weren't.  But  their  case  is  differ- 
ent.    They  are  Southern  sympathizers." 

"  Mr.  Carver  was,  but  not  the  others.  Mrs. 
Carver  wasn't  at  all,  and  Winthrop,  you  know, 
is  in  the  Federal  navy." 

"  Well,  the  captain  is,  of  course  —  3^oung 
Carver,  who  brought  you  through  the  blockade. 
It  was  the  Caroline^  by  the  way,  that  came 
through  last  night ;  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  And  their  friends  weren't,"  Celia  went  on, 
not  heeding  the  interruption.  "  I  wish  you  could 
see  Mrs.  Carver.  You  know  Mummy's  in  love 
with  her." 

"  Her  grandmother  was  a  Virginian,"  Harper 
put  in  stubbornly.     "  You  said  so  yourself." 

"  Whose  grandmother  wasn't  ?  Now,  Harper, 
don't  you  be  silly,  too.  They're  just  as  much 
Yankee,  all  of  them,  as  it's  possible  to  be.  New 
England  Yankees,  at  that,  originally.  But  his 
being  a  Southern  sympathizer  hasn't  any  more 
to  do  with  his  being  a  gentleman  than  her  having 
a  Virginian  grandmother  is  what  makes  her  a 
lady.  It  isn't  people's  opinions  that  make  them 
nice  or  not.  Their  opinions  haven't  anything  to 
do  with  it,  and  that  is  what  Dolly  and  I  had  our 


176  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

quarrel  about.  Dolly  said  that  an  abolitionist 
couldn't  be  a  gentleman,  and  I  told  her  that  I 
knew  an  abolitionist  who  believed  in  nigger 
equality  and  who  wanted  all  the  slaves  set  free, 
who  was  as  good  a  gentleman,  every  bit,  as  you 
are,  and  whom  I'd  be  proud  to  have  for  a  brother." 

She  had  used  that  last  phrase  once  before,  but 
now  as  she  repeated  the  words  she  saw  in  them 
a  secondary  significance.  Dolly  could  not  pos- 
sibly have  seen  it,  of  course,  nor  could  Harper 
now,  for  neither  of  them  knew  wliose  brother 
this  abolitionist  was ;  still  for  an  instant  she 
felt  that  she  had  made  an  involuntary  confes- 
sion, had  betrayed  her  secret,  and  with  that  feel- 
ing the  color  came  surging  into  her  face. 

While  she  had  been  speaking  he  had  paced 
the  room  moodily,  but  at  the  word  "  abolitionist " 
he  stopped  and  stared  at  her  in  utter  incredulity. 
And  when,  after  an  instant  of  silence,  he  saw  her 
flush,  his  look  changed  to  one  almost  of  terror. 

"  Celia  ! "  he  cried,  "  what  do  you  mean  ? 
You're  not  in  love  with  a  man  like  that !  Sooner 
than  let  you  marry  such  a  hound  I'd  kill  him. 
I  swear  to  you  I  would.  I'd  kill  him,  if  there 
was  no  other  way,  with  my  bare  hands ! " 

The  thought  of  a  personal  encounter  like  that 
between  Harper  and  one  of  those  great,  lean 
Carvers  almost  brought  a  smile  to  her  face. 

«  I'm  not  in  love  with  him  in  the  least,  so  you 


THE   SPY  177 

can  set  your  mind  at  rest.  You  won't  have  to 
kill  him.  But  I  might  have  been,  easily  enough  ; 
any  girl  might  be.  He's  so  fine  and  gallant  and 
chivalrous  and  gentle ;  and  he's  beautiful,  too, 
to  look  at,  I  mean.  I  don't  love  him,  not  the 
smallest  bit  in  the  world,  the  way  you  mean, 
but  I'm  very  fond  of  him,  and  I  hope  he  knows 
it." 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  is,  or  what  you  think 
he  is,  rather.  A  man  can't  think  and  believe  a 
degrading  thing  without  being  degraded." 

"  It  hasn't  degraded  him,"  she  answered 
thoughtfully.  "  It  has  ennobled  him,  if  any- 
thing. Why,  just  suppose.  Harper,  that  we  were 
wrong.  Suppose  that  after  believing  in  a  thing 
with  all  our  might,  and  living  it  and  fighting 
for  it,  we  found  we  had  been  mistaken  all  the 
while,  would  that  make  us  bad,  or  mean  ?  " 

Young  Townley  felt  as  a  teacher  of  mathe- 
matics might  feel  if  a  refractory  pupil  refused  to 
admit  a  belief  that  two  and  two  will  always 
make  four.  "  Celia,"  said  he,  with  the  laborious 
patience  of  one  whose  patience  is  nearly  ex- 
hausted, ''  Celia,  let's  get  back  to  the  beginning. 
You  know  we  are  right,  don't  you?  And  you're 
sure  we're  going  to  win  in  the  end  ?  " 

"  I  want  us  to  win,"  she  answered  slowly, 
"  and  I  believe  that  the  side  that  wins  will  be 
right."     She  made  a  long  pause  there.     "  Harjoer 

N 


178  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

dear,  I  have  to  be  lionest  with  you,  don't  I  ?  I 
can't  tell  you  anything  that  isn't  quite  true.  If 
you'd  asked  me  three  months  ago,  even,  if  I  was 
sure  we  were  right,  I'd  have  thought  the  ques- 
tion too  silly  to  need  an  answer.  I  thought  so, 
just  as  you  do,  of  course.  And  now  I  want  to 
think  so.  I  want  to  with  all  my  might,  but  I 
can't  be  sure.     I  can't,  Harper." 

At  that  his  patience  snapped.  "I  don't  see, 
then,  that  the  people  who  say  you've  turned 
Yankee  are  so  very  far  wrong." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  with  her  hand  over 
her  eyes,  to  shade  them  from  the  candle-light, 
sat  thoughtfully  silent,  while  he,  angry,  aston- 
ished, speechless,  paced  back  and  forth  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  room. 

How  long  this  had  endured  neither  knew, 
when  they  were  brought  sharply  back  to  the 
present  by  a  low  but  distinct  knock  at  the  street 
door.  The  summons,  at  that  hour  of  night, 
was  imperative. 

Young  Townley  caught  up  the  candle  as  he 
strode  across  the  room,  and  flinging  the  door 
wide  open  barred  the  way  with  his  presence, 
while,  shading  the  flame  with  his  hand,  he 
peered  out  at  the  towering  figure  which  had 
sought  entrance. 

"  Captain  Carver  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  is 
it  ?     Will  vou  come  in  ?  " 


THE   SPY  179 

The  captain  had  often  been  in  port  since  his 
first  memorable  voyage,  and  Harper,  wondering 
much  that  he  never  came  to  the  house  but  dis- 
couraged from  asking  questions  no  less  by  his 
mother's  manner  than  by  Celia's,  had  neverthe- 
less taken  occasion  to  meet  him. 

Celia  had  already  risen  and  was  looking 
towards  the  door.  On  hearing  the  name  of  their 
visitor  she  turned  a  little  pale  and  dropped  her 
eyes,  but,  with  an  effort,  held  herself  just  as  she 
was,  facing  the  door.  She  heard  him  enter  the 
room  and  the  door  click  behind  him. 

"  Lieutenant  Carver,"  the  voice  corrected. 

At  the  sound  of  it,  rather  than  the  sense,  she 
gasped.  "  Winthrop,"  she  cried,  and  then,  under 
her  breath,  she  repeated  the  name  in  clear 
astonishment  over  the  wonder  of  his  being  there. 

"  I've  come  to  see  you,"  he  said.  His  glance 
left  her  for  a  moment  and  rested  on  young 
Townley  questioningly,  as  though  searching  for 
some  memory  of  his  face. 

"  My  brother  Harper,"  said  Celia. 

Winthrop's  eyes  were  now  on  the  Confederate's 
uniform.  "  I'm  Lieutenant  Carver,  of  the  Federal 
navy,"  he  said  quite  simply.  "  We're  enemies,  of 
course.  Captain  Townley,  but  I  hope  you'll  think 
it  not  inconsistent  with  your  duty  to  grant  me 
an  hour's  truce." 

Harper  had    not    taken    his    eyes    from    him, 


180  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

except  for  one  wondering  glance  at  Celia,  since 
he  came  into  the  room.  "  Oh,  I  suppose,"  he 
now  said  abruptly,  as  though  he  had  found  a  clew 
to  his  wonder  at  last,  —  "I  suppose  you're  the 
head  of  that  party  of  —  of  Federals  "  (the  word 
came  hard)  ''who  held  up  the  courier  on  the 
Jacksonville  Road." 

Winthrop  smiled.  "  Do  I  get  my  truce  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  You  ask  a  good  deal,"  said  Harper,  stiffly. 
"  You've  taken  an  unfair  advantage,  it  seems  to 
me.  You  come  here  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  offer  me  my  choice  between  harboring  a  spy, 
a  spy  we've  been  trying  particularly  hard  to 
catch  for  three  days,  too,  or  turning  you  over 
to  the  provost  after  you've  thrown  yourself  on 
my  mercy,  and  when  you  have  some  claim  to 
it." 

"  That  would  be  unfair,"  said  Winthrop,  as 
lightly  as  if  the  question  at  issue  had  been  a 
purely  academic  one,  "  very  unfair  if  I'd  done  it. 
But  I  don't  throw  myself  on  your  mercy  at  all. 
It  isn't  a  question  of  your  turning  me  over  to  the 
provost,  but  of  your  trying  to.  And,  if  you  don't 
mind  my  saying  so,  that's  quite  a  different  thing. 
I  haven't  come  into  the  city  without  providing 
for  a  way  out.  If  you  decline  the  truce  I  shall 
do  my  best  to  overpower  you  and  to  escape.  I 
think  I  have  a  fair  chance  to  do  it." 


THE   SPY  181 

He  paused  there  a  moment,  then,  his  voice  a 
little  more  vibrant,  more  tense,  but  no  louder,  he 
went  on,  "  As  to  my  being  a  spy,  I  am  that  of 
course,  for  I  am  inside  your  lines  and  not  in 
uniform  ;  but  I'll  give  you  my  word  that  I've 
come  into  Wilmington  to-night  for  just  one  pur- 
pose, and  that  is  to  see  your  sister  and  to  tell 
her  something  I  want  her  to  know." 

Harper  remained  silent  a  moment  after  Win- 
throp  had  finished  speaking,  but  not  from  doubt. 
The  man,  the  deed,  the  telling  of  it,  all  had  set 
his  imagination  ablaze. 

"  I've  never  been  sorry  before  to  have  a  Yankee 
for  an  enemy,"  he  burst  out  at  last,  "  but  I  am 
now.  I'm  sorry  the  truce  must  end  in  an 
hour." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Winthrop,  and  they  shook 
hands. 

Harper  hurried  out  of  the  room,  only  to  return 
a  moment  later  wrapped  in  a  long  rain-proof 
cloak.  "  Mother's  asleep,"  he  said,  "  and  I  don't 
believe  it's  best  to  wake  her,  do  you  ?  I'm 
going  to  stroll  round  outside  and  see  that  you 
aren't  interrupted.  You'd  better  draw  the  blinds 
a  little  tighter,  too,  Celia.  It's  late  to  be  having 
visitors." 

If  the  three  young  people  had  been  their  com- 
mon-sense everyday  selves,  it  is  probable  that  at 
least  one  of  them  would   have  reflected  that  a 


182  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

solitary  figure  in  a  cloak  patrolling  the  house  on  a 
night  like  this  would  be  as  likely  to  attract  the 
curiosity  of  a  chance  passer-by  as  anything  that 
could  be  devised  for  that  special  purpose.  But 
though  Winthrop  protested,  of  course,  against  his 
going  out  in  the  rain,  it  seemed  to  him,  as  to  the 
brother  and  sister,  a  natural  and  fitting  thing 
that,  now  the  truce  was  agreed  upon,  its  articles 
should  be  carried  out  in  as  handsome  a  manner 
as  possible.  It  is  precisely  what  he  would  have 
done  had  the  circumstances  been  reversed.  So 
in  a  moment  more  Harper's  patrol  was  begun 
up  and  down  the  little  veranda,  and  Winthrop 
was  alone  with  Celia  in  the  half-lit  room. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  sleeve.  "  You're 
very  wet,"  she  said.  "  Take  off  your  coat  and 
let  me  hang  it  up  to  dry." 

She  helped  him  out  of  it,  for  he  moved  a  little 
stiffly,  and  hung  it  behind  the  stove.  It  was 
soggy  with  three  days'  rain ;  an  hour  in  the  stove 
would  hardly  have  dried  it,  but  at  least  the 
water  in  it  would  be  warm  when  he  put  it  on 
again.  The  easy-chair  was  still  where  it  had 
been  when  Mrs.  Townley  left  it,  and  she  made 
him  sit  there. 

"You're  cold  and  tired,  I  know,"  she  said. 
"  And,  oh,  —  aren't  you  hungry  ?  " 

He  had  forgotten  how  many  hours  he  had 
been  fasting. 


THE   SPY  183 

"  Only  for  a  talk  with  you,"  he  said. 

She  drew  another  chair  close  to  the  fire  for 
herself  and  waited  for  him  to  go  on,  but  the 
silence  was  so  long  that  it  was  she  who  broke  it. 

"  It's  so  good  to  see  you  again,  but  it's  such 
a  wonder  that  I  can't  realize  that  it's  wonderful 
at  all.     How  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  We've  been  ashore  about  three  days,  I  and  a 
boat's  crew.  The  boat's  hidden  in  a  marsh  on 
Masonborough  Sound.  We've  been  getting  some 
information  the  admiral  wanted.  The  boat  goes 
back  to-night  with  my  report,  whether  I'm  there 
or  not." 

Again  she  waited  for  him  to  speak  and  again 
his  silence  compelled  her  to  go  on. 

"  I  don't  w^onder  you  look  older  than  you  did 
—  how  long  ?  —  six  months  ago.  Have  you  had 
many  adventures  like  this  ?  " 

"  No,  it's  been  dull  enough.  We  were  on 
blockade  here  at  Wilmington  until  about  three 
months  ago.  We  were  detached  for  the  Port 
Royal  expedition,  but  we've  been  back  on  block- 
ade ever  since.  I  had  a  letter  from  mother  that 
you  had  run  the  blockade,  and  she  said  she  had 
word  you  had  got  through  all  right." 

"  Had  word  !  " 

"  Yes.     So  I  knew  I  should  find  you." 

His  mood  had  settled  so  strongl}'  upon  him  that 
he  let  her  exclamation  go  by  quite  unheeded. 


184  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

The  minutes  were  slipping  away.  "  And  what 
is  it  you've  come  to  tell  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  pressed  his  lips  tight  together  and  looked 
long  and  fixedly  into  her  face  ;  then,  "  Not  till  I've 
asked  you  first,"  he  said.  "  Celia  !  "  The  out- 
burst of  passion  the  one  word  carried  almost 
frightened  her.  "  Celia  !  isn't  it  different  now  ? 
a  little  different  ?  You  didn't  know  when  I  told 
you  before.  You  hadn't  thought.  I  was  just  a 
boy  to  you.  But  we've  lived  so  long  since  then. 
You've  known  all  the  while.  Doesn't  that  make 
a  difference  ?  I  was  almost  beside  myself  that 
day.  I  thought  you  meant  to  tell  me  there  was 
some  one  else.  You  didn't  say  so.  I  remember 
every  word  you  said.  But  wasn't  I  wrong, 
thinking  you  meant  it  ?  Celia,  haven't  you  an 
answer  for  me  ?  " 

She  was  leaning  forward  a  little  in  her  chair, 
her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  it,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
patch  of  bright  red  mica  in  the  stove  door.  "  It 
isn't  very  easy  to  be  honest,  is  it  ? "  she  said. 
"  And  I  want  to  be  honest  now,  if  ever  I  am 
going  to  be  in  all  my  life." 

Her  voice  to  her  own  ears  sounded  like  a 
stranger's.  Her  words  came  slowly,  reflectively, 
absently  almost,  as  if  —  as  was  more  than  half 
the  truth  —  she  had  been  talking  aloud  to  her- 
self. They  were  strange  words  to  say,  but 
strangest  about  them  to  him,  without  the  key, 


THE   SPY  185 

inexplicable,  was  the  note  of  self-scorn  which 
vibrated  through  them. 

"  I  liked  you  better  than  I've  liked  many 
people,  at  the  very  first,"  she  went  on,  "  and  I 
grew  to  admire  you  and  to  be  very  fond  of  you. 
And  that  last  day,  the  day  you  went  away,  I 
was  proud  of  you.  I've  been  all  that  ever  since. 
Fond  of  you,  proud  of  you." 

She  repeated  the  words  as  though  they  hurt 
her,  as  though  she  wanted  them  to  hurt,  and  the 
pain  was  a  sort  of  pleasure.  He,  astonished, 
perplexed,  was  trying  to  find  words  to  interrupt 
her  wdien  she  went  on.  "  I  think  in  that  way 
I  could  grow  to  love  you  very  much.  I  think  I 
do  love  you  already.  But  it  isn't  the  way  you 
want  me  to.     Not  at  all." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  he  demanded.  He 
crossed  in  one  stride  to  where  she  sat,  and  put- 
ting his  hands  almost  roughly  on  her  shoulders 
repeated,  "  How  do  you  know  it  won't  turn  to 
the  other  if  you  give  it  a  chance  ?  " 

She  looked  up  into  his  eyes.  Her  voice  was 
gentle  again.  "  I  know  —  the  only  way  one  can 
know,  Winthrop." 

His  hands  dropped  away  from  her,  and  he 
began  pacing  the  floor. 

"  It's  all  so  different,"  she  went  on.  "  I  sup- 
pose that  somewhere  it  starts  from  the  same 
place,  but  after  that  place  it  can't  change.     How 


186  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

do  you  love  me  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  Would  you 
go  on  loving  me  just  as  much  if  I'd  done  some- 
thing detestably  v^rong,  something  so  mean  and 
bad  that  you  despised  yourself  for  loving  me ; 
would  it  make  you  love  me  all  the  harder  ? 
Perhaps  it  would.  But  I  love  you  because  you're 
nice  to  me,  because  you're  brave  and  chivalrous 
and  gentle  and  good.  But  if  you  did  something 
wicked,  not  a  brave  bad  thing,  but  a  mean  bad 
thing,  I'd  be  sorry  and  I'd  stop  loving  you.  I 
wouldn't  break  my  heart.  I  wouldn't  wish  I'd 
done  the  thing  myself  to  have  saved  you  from 
doing  it." 

She  stopped,  and  turning  in  his  stride  he  saw 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  her  body  racked 
with  sobs,  quivering.  The  last  thought  of  his 
own  case  fled  with  the  sight.  There  could  be  no 
comfort  in  words  for  a  grief  like  that,  but  he 
seated  himself  on  the  chair  arm  and  again  his 
hand,  gently  this  time,  rested  on  her  shoulder, 
while  with  the  other  he  stroked  her  hair,  till  the 
caress,  so  cool,  so  brotherly,  quieted  her.  When 
at  last  he  began  to  speak  it  was  about  something 
else. 

"  Celia,"  he  said,  "  what  I've  told  you  to-night 
wasn't  what  I  came  to  tell  you.  It  was  what 
I  promised  myself  I  would  not  say.  But  when 
I  found  myself  with  you  liere,  just  ourselves, 
just  as  it  might  all  have  been,  sometime,  I  broke 


THE   SPY  187 

my  promise.  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I'm  — 
Well,  I  think  I've  found  my  work.  When  you 
knew  me  in  New  York,  it  looked  as  though  I 
should  never  find  it.  But  I  can  fight.  I  pulled 
my  commission  out  of  the  action  at  Port  Royal. 
I've  stopped  beating  my  head  against  a  wall. 
I'm  doing  something  that  I  can  do.  I'd  have 
been  happy  at  it  if  I  could  have  forgotten  just 
one  half  hour.  But  I  kept  remembering  how 
white  your  face  was,  and  tired,  that  afternoon. 
I  remembered  every  cruel,  boyish  word  I'd  said 
when  I  found  I'd  been  mistaken,  and  how  when 
you  asked  me  to  forgive  you,  I  went  away  with- 
out saying  I  did,  or  owning  that  the  mistake  and 
the  fault  had  all  been  mine.  My  head  was  full 
of  wild,  foolish  things  when  I  went  out  to  the 
receiving  ship  that  night,  and  it  has  seemed  to 
me  ever  since  as  though  I  had  said  them  all 
to  you.  I  haven't  been  able  to  see  your  face 
except  as  it  looked  that  afternoon,  nor  to  bring 
back  any  of  our  happy  days  together  without 
having  that  one  come  in  the  way.  And  I've  felt 
as  though  I  couldn't  really  face  the  world  and 
begin  my  new  life,  until  you  and  I  had  buried 
that.  The  only  thing  I've  dreaded  has  been  that 
something  might  happen  to  me  before  I  could 
see  you.  But  now  it's  said,  and  understood,  too, 
isn't  it,  Celia  ?  " 

She  had  stopped  crying  by  this  time  and  was 


188  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

drying  her  eyes.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "you  were 
good ;  it  was  like  you  to  come  to  tell  me."  Sit- 
ting erect  as  she  sat  now  brought  her  nearer  to 
him,  but  she  seemed  untroubled  by  it.  She 
settled  her  head  more  comfortably  against  his 
arm  and  essayed  a  little  laugh,  as  she  said, 
"  You'll  take  away  another  wet,  miserable  pic- 
ture of  me  if  you  remember  how  I  look  now." 

He  moved  a  little  shyly  away  from  her  and 
took  his  old  chair.  Then,  by  way  of  keeping 
the  talk  going,  he  said,  "  Your  brother's  standing 
a  cold  watch,  I'm  afraid.  By  the  way,  how  in 
the  world  did  he  know  me  ?  " 

"  Know  you  ?  " 

"  He  called  me  by  name.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber ?  " 

She  shot  him  a  quick,  puzzled  look,  which 
this  time  did  not  escape  his  attention  ;  then  as 
simply  as  possible  she  said,  "  I  suppose  he  mis- 
took you  for  Martin.     He  called  you  Captain." 

"  But  how  can  he  know  Martin  ?  And  any- 
way it's  nearly  a  year  since  Martin  was  in  here 
with  the  Cross^  and  he  called  the  name  instantly. 
We'll  have  to  ask  him  about  it." 

He  was  not  looking  at  her,  and  the  mention  of 
his  brother's  name  turned  his  mind  in  a  new 
direction.  "  I'd  like  to  hear  something  about 
the  old  man.  Mother  doesn't  say  anything  about 
him  in  her  letters.     And  I've  got  something  to 


THE   SPY  189 

make  up  there,  too.  He  never  told  you,  I  sup- 
pose, how  I  misunderstood  him  that  day  in 
father's  office  ?  " 

With  the  question  he  looked  up  into  her  face. 

"  Celia  !  "  he  cried,  "  what  is  it  ?  You  know 
something  that  I  don't.  There's  a  clew  to  all 
this  that  I  haven't  got.  Won't  you  tell  me  ? 
You  must  tell  me." 

He  knew,  though,  before  she  said  the  words. 
The  disconnected  bits  flashed  into  place  in  his 
mind  while  he  was  waiting  for  her  words,  —  the 
letters  from  Nassau,  the  silence  as  to  Martin  and 
his  father.  Harper's  quick  calling  of  his  name  and 
Celia's  surprise  that  he  should  be  surprised  at  it. 

"  It  was  Martin  who  brought  us  through  the 
blockade.  Your  father  and  Mr.  Odell  own  the 
steamer  between  them.  He  is  running  it  for 
them." 

"  Martin,"  he  said  softly,  "  Martin  ! " 

He  sank  low  in  his  chair,  gazing  in  a  brown 
studv  at  the  fire  while  she  watched  his  face, 
reading  the  thoughts  that  ran  through  his  mind, 
recognizing  the  anger,  the  shame,  the  pity,  the 
wonder  as  now  one,  now  another,  appeared. 
Wonder  was  predominant.  There  could  be  no 
mitigating  motive  for  such  a  treason.  Nothing 
so  generous,  even,  as  the  wish  to  avenge  a  private 
injury  at  his  country's  expense ;  nothing  better 
than  the  commonest,  sordidest  greed   for  gain. 


190  TRAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 

And  even  at  that,  it  was  no  grand  betrayal,  once 
for  all,  for  a  great  prize.  It  was  a  treason  by 
way  of  trade!  And  —  here  was  the  wonder  — 
this  traitor  was  his  brother,  Martin. 

As  Celia  watched  his  face  she  waited  for  the 
flash  of  intelligence  that  would  come  when  he 
should  put  together  the  two  halves  of  her  secret 
that  were  both  in  his  hands.  After  a  while  he 
began  to  speak. 

"  Those  chaps  are  brave  enough,  I  know.  We 
ran  one  of  them  into  a  corner  one  night  —  just 
before  Port  Royal,  that  was  —  and  he  took  his 
craft  right  across  the  shoal  under  fire  and  with  a 
falling  tide,  and  got  her  off,  too." 

"  That  was  Martin,"  she  said ;  "  it  was  the 
night  he  took  us  in  ! " 

"  It  was  like  him  —  that  part  of  it,"  he  com- 
mented. "  But  why  did  they  go  into  it  ?  Why 
couldn't  it  have  been  something  else  ?  Why 
couldn't  he  have  enlisted  squarely  in  the  rebel 
army  ?  "  (He  did  not  notice  his  use  of  the  word, 
and  she  did  not  resent  it.)  "  Why  couldn't  they 
have  done  anything  but  trade  in  their  country's 
troubles  ?     It's  the  meanness  of  it !  " 

The  recurrence  of  the  word  did  it.  "  Not  a 
brave  bad  thing,  but  a  mean  bad  thing."  He 
remembered,  and  she  saw  the  flash  she  had  been 
waiting  for. 

She  met  the  quick,  wondering  look  that  fol- 


THE  SPY  191 

lowed  it.  "  Yes,"  she  said  wearily,  "  you  under- 
stand it  all,  now." 

Again  it  was  his  brother's  name  he  repeated 
slowly,  thoughtfully.  They  sat  for  a  long  time 
as  they  had  sat  before,  he  gazing  at  the  fire, 
remembering,  pondering,  wondering,  and  she 
watching  his  face,  not  very  hopefully,  yet  still 
with  a  pathetic  eagerness  as  though  from  him 
might  come  some  comfort. 

At  last  he  rose  and  took  his  steaming  coat 
from  behind  the  stove.  She  helped  him  into  it 
silently.  Then  he  turned  and  took  both  her 
hands. 

"  It's  a  tangled  skein,  Celia,"  he  said,  <«  but 
not  a  broken  one.  I  can't  see  my  w^ay  in  it  at 
all,  any  more  than  you  can.  But  I'm  going 
to  believe  that  somehow  our  three  lives  will 
straighten  themselves  out." 

He  kissed  her  two  hands.  "  Good-by,"  he 
said.     "  I  hope  that  God  w^ill  bless  you  always." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  go,"  she  cried,  clinging 
to  his  hands.      "  Hear  the  rain  !  " 

"  It's  my  friend  to-night.  The  harder  it  beats 
and  the  stronger  it  blow^s,  the  better  for  me," 

"  Good-by.     God  bless  3^ou  and  keep  you  safe." 

Harper's  long  watch  was  over.  "  It's  a  wild 
night,"  he  said  as  Winthrop  came  out  on  the 
veranda.  "  You'd  better  take  this  cloak  of 
mine." 


192  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  the  other.  "  but  you 
know  I'm  travelling  light.  I  may  have  to  run 
for  it." 

"  My  God ! "  muttered  Harper,  "  I'm  glad  I 
don't  know  the  pass  for  to-night.  I  believe  I'd 
turn  traitor  and  tell  it  to  vou  if  I  did." 

"  I  know  the  pass,"  said  Winthrop.  '<  But  I'm 
too  long-legged  to  be  properly  inconspicuous." 

"  They'll  take  you  for  your  brother  if  they 
see  you,  just  as  I  did.  You're  very  like.  And 
his  ship  is  in  to-day,  you  know,  too.  Well,  good 
luck  to  you  ! " 

They  shook  hands,  and  Winthrop  strode  away. 
At  the  nearest  corner  Harper  saw  him  turn  west, 
toward  the  river. 

"  I  thought  he'd  head  out  for  Masonborough," 
he  said  to  himself. 

A  man  he  knew  a  little  came  up  just  then 
from  the  direction  in  which  Winthrop  had  dis- 
appeared, and  stopped  to  speak  to  him. 

"  I  hear  you're  off  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "Wish 
I  had  your  luck.  Who's  that  long-legged  chap 
I  passed  back  there  ?  He  looked  familiar,  but  I 
couldn't  quite  place  him." 

"  Don't  you  know  Carver,  of  the  Caroline  f  " 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure.  But  he's  shaved  his  beard. 
That's  what  misled  me.     Good  night." 


CHAPTER    XI 

It  must  have  been  about  ten  minutes  later 
that  Martin  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the  table, 
at  the  opposite  side  of  which  sat  Mr.  Odell,  and 
rose  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  finished  an 
uncongenial  task.  "  I'm  glad  we've  done  so  w^ell 
at  it,"  he  said. 

"  Well !  It's  magnificent,  my  boy,  and  no 
smaller  word  will  do." 

They  had  indeed  found  this  blockade-running 
trade  incredibly  profitable.  When  Mr.  Odell 
had  accompanied  the  Caroline  on  her  first  adven- 
turous run  into  Wilmington,  it  had  been  with 
no  intention  of  remaining  for  more  than  a  week 
or  two  at  the  most,  long  enough  only  to  intro- 
duce Martin  among  his  correspondents  in  the 
city  and  to  get  the  business  started.  But  once 
ashore  he  had  found  himself  in  a  veritable  specu- 
lators' paradise.  If  at  sea  Martin  had  been  pres- 
cient, wary,  bold,  Mr.  Odell  was  all  these  things 
among  the  dangerous  currents  of  finance,  where 
Martin  —  who  knew  ?  —  might  prove  as  easy  a 
prey  to  untrustworthy  guides  as  he  himself  had 
been  to  the  pilot.  Reasoning  thus  he  had  rented 
a  large  building  near  the  Caroline^  dock,  which 

o  193 


194  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

served  as  residence,  warehouse,  and  office.  There 
were  many  others  who  had  done  likewise,  though 
few,  if  any,  who  proved  so  successful  at  it  as  he. 
They  were  regarded  by  the  loyal  Southerners  in 
the  city  with  a  kind  of  horror,  as  birds  of  prey 
who  were  feeding  fat  on  the  very  entrails  of  the 
Confederacy ;  but  they  had  much  power  and  could 
command  with  it  a  sort  of  consideration.  Mr. 
Odell  was  not  very  sensitive  to  their  sentiments 
so  long  as  the  easily  manipulated  market  was  so 
kind  to  him,  so  long  as  every  variation  in  the 
wildly  erratic  price  of  gold  left  so  much  of  it  in 
his  pocket,  so  long  as  he  could  send  such  reports 
to  Mr.  Carver  at  Nassau  as  the  one  he  and  Mar- 
tin and  a  couple  of  clerks  had  just  spent  half  the 
night  drawing  up. 

"  By  the  way,  I  saw  a  friend  of  yours  to-day," 
Odell  remarked  casually,  as  Martin  was  leaving ; 
"and  in  no  very  comfortable  predicament, 
either." 

Martin  would  have  let  the  first  half  of  the 
sentence  go  without  comment,  but  the  second 
roused  him.  "  What,"  he  demanded,  "  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  It  was  old  Dearborn  of  your  father's  fleet. 

He   used   to    command   the   Centaur,  didn't  he  ? 

If 

You  must  have  known  him  well." 
"  What  was  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 
"  He  was  one  of  a  lot  of  Yankee  prisoners,  wait- 


THE   SPY  195 

ing  to  be  sent  down  to  Andersonville.  They 
got  him  in  the  cutting  out  up  at  Newbern,  I 
believe.  There  was  another  young  sailor  with 
him,  a  Centaur  man,  but  I  didn't  ask  his  name- 
I  only  had  a  chance  for  a  word  with  him." 

"  Andersonville,"  Martin  repeated.  Then  — 
"  I've  known  him  since  I  can  remember.  He 
used  to  call  me  '  Captain '  when  I  was  no  higher 
than  that  table.  He's  an  old  man  to  go  to 
a  hell  like  that.  I'd  like  — "  Martin  made 
a  thoughtful  pause.  "I'd  like  to  do  a  little 
cutting  out  on  my  own  account,  and  carry  him 
off  through  the  blockade  to  Nassau.  He'd  do 
as  much  for  me  any  day." 

"  Cutting  out  is  hardly  in  your  line,  my  boy," 
said  Odell,  dryly.  "  You  can't  run  with  the  hare 
and  the  hounds  too." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Martin,  "  that  he  managed 
to  be  in  it  at  all.  Semmes  took  his  parole  when 
he  took  the  Centaur^  and  I  didn't  know  there'd 
been  any  exchange." 

Odell  made  no  reply,  but  not  because  he  could 
not  have  answered  Martin's  question.  In  the  half 
dozen  words  they  had  had  time  to  exchange,  the 
old  man  had  told  him  that  he  had  not  been 
exchanged,  that  he  was  only  waiting  to  be 
recognized  to  pay  the  penalty  of  having  violated 
his  parole.  But  a  less  shrewd  man  than  Patrick 
Odell  would  have  seen  the  effect  the  revelation 


196  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

of  this  to  Martin  would  be  likely  to  have.  He 
regretted  having  mentioned  the  incident  at  all. 
The  young  captain  needed  careful  management. 
He  was  worth  it.  He  was  the  absolutely  essen- 
tial element  in  these  enterprises,  and  his  weight 
in  fine  gold  would  not  recompense  his  loss. 

"  It's  very  late,''  he  said,  glancing  at  his  watch. 
"  Yes,  half-past  twelve.     Off  to  bed  with  you !  " 

Martin  wished  him  an  abrupt  good  night,  and 
a  moment  later  was  walking  slowly  toward  the 
Caroline's  wharf. 

The  wharf  was  not  well  lighted,  and  as  he 
approached  the  gangway  he  was  sharply  chal- 
lenged by  the  watchman's  voice,  "  Who  goes 
there  ?  "  and  the  man  himself  came  quickly  up 
out  of  the  shadows. 

"  I  guess  you  know  me," — turning  so  that  the 
light  fell  on  his  face.  "  Why,  what's  the  matter 
with  you,  man  ?  " 

There  was  more  than  amazement  in  the  man's 
look,  there  was  terror.  "You've  just  gone 
aboard,  sir.  I'd  swear  it  if  I  was  about  to  die, 
you  went  aboard  not  five  minutes  ago.  I  saw 
you  as  plain  as  I  see  you  now.  I  saw^  you'd 
shaved  off  your —  Good  God!  You  —  you 
were  without  your  beard  five  minutes  ago,  sir." 

"You've  been  asleep  —  that's  plain  enough, 
anyway.  Keep  better  watch  than  that  for  the 
rest  of  the  night." 


THE   SPY  197 

He  strode  across  the  gangway  with  a  curt 
nod  that  cut  short  the  watchman's  confused  pro- 
testations, mounted  to  the  upper  deck,  and 
was  on  his  way  through  the  saloon  to  his  own 
cabin  when  he  encountered  the  steward,  who 
was  sitting  up  waiting  for  his  last  orders  for 
the  night. 

Here  again  was  an  astonishment  hardly  less 
than  the  watchman's. 

"How  did  you  get  out  of  your  cabin,  sir? 
I've  been  here  since  you  went  in  five  minutes 
ago.     I  haven't  had  my  eyes  off  the  door." 

"  You've  been  asleep,  I  suppose,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  w^as  asleep  before  you  came  aboard.  I 
didn't  wake  till  just  as  you  were  going  through 
the  door.     But  I'd  swear  I  hadn't  slept  since." 

Before  he  had  finished  speaking,  Martin  had 
reached  his  cabin  door,  entered,  and  shut  it 
behind  him.  That  some  one  had  been  there  but 
a  moment  or  two  before  was  evident  enough. 
The  open  window,  large  enough,  though  barely, 
for  egress,  and  the  indentations  in  his  bed 
showed  how  he  had  escaped. 

He  looked  quickly  about  the  little  room. 
There  had  been  no  robbery.  Everything  was 
quite  as  he  had  left  it  save  that  a  large  book  had 
been  taken  down  from  the  shelf  and  lay  on  his 
desk.  A  torn  scrap  of  paper  protruded  from 
its   leaves.     He  whipped  it  out   and    read  at  a 


198  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

glance  the  single  line  which  was  scrawled  across 
it:  — 

^'For  GocTs  sahe,  old  Tnan^  try  to  think  what  it 
means. "^^ 

There  was  no  signature,  but  there  needed  none. 
His  brother's  curiously  characteristic  hand  could 
not  be  mistaken.  He  tore  the  scrap  to  shreds 
and  crumpled  them  in  his  hand. 

"  Winthrop  ?  "  he  said,  aloud,  but  very  softly. 

Then,  leaving  the  cabin  door  open,  he  went 
out  into  the  saloon  again.  The  steward  was 
still  there.  "  Notice  that  I'm  coming  out  this 
time,"  said  Martin.  "  No,  there's  nothing  wrong, 
and  I  don't  want  you  for  anything." 

He  descended  to  the  main  deck,  and  going  to 
the  off-side  side  just  abaft  the  paddle-box,  looked 
down  into  the  water.  A  small  gig  which  had 
been  made  fast  there  was  gone.  He  flung  the 
little  scraps  of  paper  abroad  over  the  surface  of 
the  water,  made  as  if  to  go  away,  but  changed 
his  mind  and  climbed  over  the  rail  instead. 
Holding  fast  with  one  hand,  he  groped  about  in 
the  dark  with  the  other,  and  presently  found 
what  he  expected,  half  the  gig's  painter  ending 
clean  and  square  with  w^hat  must  have  been  a 
single  slash  of  a  sharp  knife.  He  loosened  it 
swiftly,  flung  it  too  into  the  river,  and  stepping 
back  over  the  rail,  returned  to  the  upper  deck 
and  his  cabin. 


THE   SPY  199 

"  Don't  turn  in  just  yet,"  he  said  to  the 
steward  as  he  passed  him.  "  I  may  want  you 
for  something,  after  all." 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  let  his  clasped 
hands  drop  on  the  table  before  him  while  he 
stared,  sightless,  at  the  little  dressing  mirror  that 
hung  opposite  him. 

What  did  it  mean  ? 

Clearly  that  Winthrop  had  been  there.  He 
could  have  got  into  the  city  only  as  a  spy  or  a 
prisoner.  What  then  ?  Why  did  he  come  to 
the  Caroline  f  Not  for  shelter,  for  he  had  hardly 
been  aboard  five  minutes.  He  had  been  seen  in 
the  streets,  no  doubt,  had  been  mistaken  for  his 
brother,  and  had  used  the  mistake  to  help  him  in 
getting  off.  And  the  single  riddle  of  a  message 
he  had  scrawled  and  left  for  his  brother's  eye. 
It  was  an  appeal,  all  he  had  had  time  to  write, 
all  he  had  dared  to  write  lest  it  should  fall  into 
other  hands,  but  clearly  an  appeal  for  help.  He 
was  out  on  the  river  now  beyond  help,  except  — 
and  Martin,  the  sweat  standing  out  on  his  face, 
almost  gasped  with  relief  as  he  got  the  clew  — 
except  as  Martin  might  delay  and  confuse 
pursuit  by  assisting  in  the  mistake  as  to  their 
identities  for  a  few  hours  longer  ! 

How  that  was  to  be  done  was  another  ques- 
tion. He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and,  in  his 
perplexity,  rubbed  his  hand  in  his  close-cropped 


200  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

beard.  He  could  see  his  face  in  the  glass,  and 
the  action  gave  him  a  hint.  He  remembered 
the  watchman's  words,  "You  were  without  your 
beard  five  minutes  ago,  sir." 

He  flung  open  the  cabin  door.  "  Steward," 
he  called. 

The  man  had  served  with  him  only  since  the 
Caroline  had  found  her  new  name,  but  Martin's 
long  years  at  sea  had  not  been  wasted.  He  was 
as  confident  of  the  steward's  faithfulness  and 
devotion  as  if  the  man  had  been  one  of  the 
old   Centaur's. 

"  Steward,"  he  said,  "  for  a  day  or  two  you 
may  see  and  be  ordered  to  do  some  things  you 
don't  know  all  the  bearings  of.  You  may  think 
you  understand  them  when  you  don't.  But 
unless  I'm  mistaken  in  you,  you'll  do  your  duty 
and  not  talk.  When  people  ask  you  questions 
they  have  a  right  to  ask,  you'll  answer  them, 
and  you'll  tell  the  truth  as  far  as  you  know  it, 
but  not  till  then,  and  not  then  unless  the  people 
have  a  right  to  know.  I  want  you  to  begin 
by  shaving  me." 

"  Shaving  you,  sir !  Shave  your  beard !  I 
never  tried  above  half  a  dozen  times  to  shave 
any  one  but  myself  in  all  my  life ! " 

"Well,  bring  your  razor  and  a  pair  of  scissors 
and  make  the  best  job  you  can  of  it.  And  bear 
a  hand  about  it,  please.     I'm  in  a  hurry." 


THE   SPY  201 

The  operation  was,  considering  the  circum- 
stances, got  througli  more  or  less  success- 
fully. Martin  at  least  seemed  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  result,  and  his  opinion  on  such  a  topic 
might  be  taken  as  final.  But  the  steward,  in 
spite  of  the  warning  that  he  might  not  under- 
stand, was  almost  inclined  to  doubt  his  captain's 
sanity  when,  after  having  repeatedly  exhorted 
him  to  hurrj^,  after  having  with  manifest  haste, 
though  with  great  care,  washed  away  the  lather 
and  stanched  his  cuts,  Martin  suddenly  became 
again  his  leisurely,  deliberate  self. 

"  Tell  the  watchman,  will  you,  that  my  gig 
has  broken  adrift  and  gone  down  the  river,  and 
that  if  he  can  find  it  to-morrow  I'll  pay  him  for 
his  trouble.  That's  all  I'll  want  of  you  to-night, 
I'm  sure,"  he  said.  "  You  can  turn  in  now  as 
soon  as  you  like." 

"  You  aren't  going  out  anywhere  ?  "  demanded 
the  steward. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I'm  going  to  bed.  Oh, 
you  won't  be  able  to  figure  it  out.  But  you 
will,  I'm  sure,  be  able  to  remember  your  instruc- 
tions.    Good  night." 

It  was  in  no  disloyalty  to  Martin  that  the 
steward,  convinced  that  he  must  have  some  mys- 
terious errand  that  night,  sat  up  till  morning, 
wide  awake,  listening  with  all  his  ears  for  some 
sound  which  might  give  him  a  clew  to  the  mys- 


202  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

tery.  It  was  clear,  unconquerable,  human  curios- 
ity. His  vigil  had  no  reward,  however,  and 
about  dawn,  quite  worn  out,  he  fell  asleep. 

The  captain's  reasoning  had  been  good  enough. 
When  a  fugitive  making  his  escape  in  a  row- 
boat  leaves  a  clean-cut  half  of  its  painter  behind, 
in  flat  contradiction  of  the  plausible  excuse  that 
the  boat  had  worked  loose  and  drifted  off,  it 
may  be  taken  either  that  he  is  in  a  great  hurry 
or  that  he  is  not  in  the  way  of  thinking  of  small 
details.  In  either  case  one  may  reasonably  ex- 
pect to  find  the  chase  hot  upon  his  heels.  All 
the  while  the  steward  had  been  shaving  him, 
Martin  had  been  in  instant  expectation  of  hear- 
ing the  provost  guard  come  tramping  aboard 
the  Caroline.  But  once  his  beard  had  been  made 
away  with,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
for  the  file  of  soldiers  who  were  coming  to  make 
him  prisoner.  With  that  economy  of  force  which 
is  instinctive  with  men  accustomed  to  perils,  he 
tumbled  into  his  bunk  and  slept  the  night  out 
as  soundly  as  though  nothing  unusual  could  be 
expected  to  interrupt  it. 

He  was  alarmed,  on  waking,  to  find  that  it 
was  morning  and  that  nothing  had  happened. 
He  might,  after  all,  have  misunderstood  the  enig- 
matic message,  or  the  chase  might  have  swept 
right  by  him,  undisturbed  by  the  attempt  to 
leave    a   false    scent   behind.     Winthrop  might. 


THE   SPY  203 

hours  ago,  have  been  taken.  Still  there  was 
nothing  he  could  do.  His  best  course  was  still 
to  wait. 

He  sent  out  for  the  morning  newspaper,  but 
it  was,  it  seemed  to  him,  ominously  silent  on 
the  subject  of  the  night's  events,  and  it  was  with 
a  very  troubled  mind  that  he  sat  down  to  break- 
fast. But  before  he  had  finished  the  steward 
came  to  him,  and,  with  a  tone  full  of  perplexity 
and  apprehension,  said  that  the  commandant 
wished  to  see  him. 

"  Good  !  "  said  Martin,  cheerfully  ;  "  show  him 
into  my  cabin." 

Half  a  minute  later  he  followed  the  officer 
into  the  little  room  and  begged  him  to  sit  down. 

The  commandant  looked  at  him  steadily  for 
a  long  moment  before  he  accepted  the  invitation. 
When  he  spoke,  it  w^as  w^ith  the  hesitation  of  a 
man  deciding  between  different  courses. 

"  Captain  Carver,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  have 
a  very  tangled  skein  in  my  hands,  and  I've  come 
for  your  help  in  unravelling  it.  I'm  sorry  that 
I  must  begin  by  asking  you  to  tell  me  where  and 
how  you  spent  last  evening." 

Martin  had  long  been  prepared  with  an  an- 
swer to  that  question,  though  he  had  not  expected 
that  it  would  be  propounded  so  politely.  But  he 
took  quite  as  long  about  giving  the  answer  as 
the  other  had  taken  over  the  question.     Then  he 


204  TKAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 

spoke  very  deliberately.  "  I  spent  last  evening, 
all  of  it,  with  Mr.  Patrick  Odell,  in  his  office." 

The  commandant  was  annoj^ed.  "  What  you 
say,  sir,  may  very  well  be  true,  but  if  it  is  true, 
why  do  you  use  that  manner  ?  You  speak  as  if 
it  were  not  true  and  you  did  not  care  to  pretend 
that  it  is." 

"  You  can  easily  discover  whether  it  is  or  not 
by  referring  to  Mr.  Odell." 

This  was  no  better,  for  Mr.  Odell,  though  a 
power  in  the  city  and  entitled  to  some  con- 
sideration, had  too  much  interest  in  this  case 
to  be  a  satisfactory  witness. 

"  The  matter  is  serious,  Captain  Carver,"  said 
the  commandant,  sharply.  ''  There  was  a  spy 
in  the  city  last  night.  He  overpowered  a  soldier 
on  picket  duty,  was  seen  at  various  points  about 
the  city,  and  was  last  seen  coming  down  toward 
this  steamer ;  several  persons  besides  the  soldier 
himself  have  identified  him  more  or  less  certainly 
with  yourself,  remarking  that  you  had  shaved 
your  beard,  as  I  observe  you  have.  I  trust  you 
may  be  able  to  clear  yourself,  for  your  own  sake 
of  course,  but  more  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
have  the  misfortune  to  be  implicated  with  you 
in  the  matter.  I'm  anxious  to  give  you  every 
chance,  every  assistance  in  my  power,  if  only 
you  will  meet  me  frankly.  But  if  you  rely  on 
my  regard  for  them  to  save  you  from  the  conse' 


THE   SPY  205 

quences  of  what  you  may  have  been  doing  last 
night,  you  will  rely  too  far." 

The  start  which  Martin  could  not  repress  at 
the  words  "  those  who  are  implicated  with  you," 
had  not  interrupted  the  commandant's  speech, 
nor  even,  it  seemed,  caught  his  attention. 

"  I've  told  you  all  that  I  can  tell,"  said  Martin, 
in  his  natural  manner. 

"  Then  I  must  put  you  under  arrest.  Are  you 
willing  to  give  me  your  word  that  you  will  not 
try  to  leave  this  ship  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Martin.  "  I  promise  not  to 
leave  this  ship  until  you  give  me  permission. 
And  I  shall  regard  that  promise  as  binding, 
whether  you  see  fit  to  place  me  under  guard  or 
not." 

The  commandant  took  his  leave,  after  a  curt 
good  morning,  and  Martin  was  left  to  grapple 
with  his  new  problem.  So  Winthrop  had  made 
the  Townleys  a  visit,  had  allowed  them,  too,  to 
be  entangled  in  the  net  thrown  to  catch  him  ! 
Such  a  possibility  had  occurred  once  to  Martin's 
mind,  but  he  had  dismissed  it  at  once  as  impos- 
sible. But  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it  now. 
He  knew  as  well  as  if  the  commandant  had 
spoken  their  names. 

About  the  middle  of  the  morning  appeared  an 
extra  edition  of  the  newspaper,  and  Martin  read 
it  eagerly.     The  first  alarm  had  occurred  at  mid- 


206  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

night,  when  a  picket  was  found  to  be  missing. 
A  search  was  made  for  him  ;  but,  as  he  had  been 
recently  drafted,  it  w^as  supposed  until  early 
in  the  morning  that  he  had  deserted.  But  just 
at  sunrise  he  had  been  found  in  an  abandoned 
hut  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  bound  fast  and 
gagged.  His  story  was  that  he  had  been  sud- 
denly and  noiselessly  set  upon  by  a  man  of 
gigantic  size  and  strength,  who  had  easily  over- 
powered him,  and  after  threatening  him  with 
instant  death  if  he  made  a  sound,  had  carried 
him  bodily  to  this  hut,  where  he  had  tied  him 
up  at  leisure.  He  w^as  very  positive  in  his 
identification  of  his  assailant  as  a  man  well 
known  in  Wilmington  by  reason  of  frequent 
periodic  visits  he  was  in  the  habit  of  making  to 
the  city  through  the  blockade.  The  light  was 
very  faint,  and  the  man  disguised  by  the  absence 
of  the  beard  he  ordinarily  wore,  but  the  picket 
would  admit  no  doubt  as  to  his  identity. 

The  article  went  on  to  say  that  the  person 
under  suspicion  had  been  seen  about  the  streets 
at  a  later  hour  by  various  persons,  some  of  whom 
had  also  remarked  the  absence  of  his  beard,  and 
that  he  had  finally  been  seen  to  return  to  his 
ship.  "An  arrest,"  it  added,  "has  in  all  prob- 
ability already  been  made." 

That  was  definite  enough  to  be  of  real  aid  to 
Winthrop,  supposing  he  had  not  already  made 


THE   SPY  207 

good  his  escape,  but  the  thing  Martin  had  dreaded 
to  find  was  not  there.  There  was  no  reference, 
however  oblique,  to  the  Townleys. 

The  early  part  of  the  day  wore  away  slowly 
for  Martin.  He  had  expected  a  visit  from  Mr. 
Odell,  but  whether  for  reasons  of  his  own  or 
for  the  commandant's  reasons  he  stayed  away. 
A  little  after  dinner  he  heard  a  low  knock  at  his 
door. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  said  a  voice. 

He  flung  the  door  open.  "  You ! "  he  said, 
almost  in  a  whisper,  "  here  ?  " 

Celia's  eyes  were  slow  in  rising  to  his  face. 
When  they  did  there  was  no  astonishment  in 
them,  only  a  pathetic  bewilderment.  The  Same 
note  was  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke.  "  I  don't 
understand,"  she  said. 

She  did  not  take  the  chair  he  had  placed  for 
her.  When  he  had  closed  the  door,  she  repeated, 
"  I  don't  understand.  I  know^  so  little  about  it. 
Do  you  know  any  more  ?  He  was  at  our  house 
last  night  for  a  while  —  Winthrop,  I  mean." 

It  was  a  madly  reckless  thing  —  her  coming  to 
see  him.  The  commandant  in  allowing  them  all 
so  much  liberty  had  very  likely,  Martin  thought, 
cherished  a  hope  that  they  would  help  him  solve 
his  mystery,  if  only  he  gave  them  rope  enough, 
but  he  could  have  had  in  mind  nothing  like  this. 
It  made   a  situation,    already  bad  enough,   im- 


208  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

mensely  worse.  But  with  his  first  glance  at  her 
he  comprehended  how  completely  overwrought 
she  was,  how  little  mistress  of  herself.  And  he 
would  not  have  uttered  a  word  of  remonstrance 
if  her  visit  had  condemned  him  to  the  gallows. 
She  seemed,  however,  to  feel  what  was  passing 
in  his  thoughts,  for  before  he  answered,  she 
added : — 

"I  ought  not  to  have  come.  But  I  read  in 
the  papers  about  it ;  and  how  he  had  come  here. 
And  then  the  commandant  came  and  said  he 
had  already  been  arrested  —  and  I  had  to  know. 
Did  he  confe  here,  and  did  they  find  him  because 
he  came  ?  " 

"  They  haven't  found  him,  or  I  hope  they 
haven't.  He  was  mistaken  for  me,  it  seems, 
as  he  came  this  way,  came  aboard  the  Caroline 
and  escaped  down  the  river  in  my  gig  that  was 
moored  on  the  off-shore  side  of  the  ship.  Then 
the  commandant  came  along  this  morning  and 
arrested  me." 

"  He  did  come  here  ?  And  you  saw  him  ? " 
There  was  a  new  note  of  excitement  in  her 
voice  as  she  asked  the  questions,  which  Martin 
could  not  understand.  It  was  a  moment,  too, 
before  he  saw  that  the  pronoun  referred  to 
Winthrop. 

"  He  came  aboard  five  minutes  ahead  of  me, 
it  seems.     No,  I  didn't  see  him.     He  left  a  note 


THE   SPY  209 

here  on  my  table.  That's  how  I  knew  he'd  been 
here." 

"  He  left  you  a  note,"  she  said  rather  breath- 
lessly, as  though  prompting  him  to  go  on. 

"  I  couldn't  make  it  out,  exactly.  It  was  very 
short,  and  a  good  deal  of  a  riddle.  But  I  guess 
I've  done  what  he  wanted  me  to.  You  see  he'd 
been  mistaken  for  me,  so  I  shaved  off  my  beard  to 
help  the  mistake  along.  It's  only  good  for  a  few 
hours'  delay  at  best,  but  a  few  hours  may  make 
all  the  difference  to  him." 

"  And  you're  making  them  think  you  are  the 
spy ! "  Her  face  flushed  and  her  tired  eyes 
seemed   to  grow   bright  again. 

"Not  exactly.  But  when  the  commandant 
called  this  morning  I  didn't  give  him  much 
satisfaction.  So  he  ended  up  by  putting  me 
under  arrest.  You  said  he  came  to  see  you  this 
morning.     Can  you  tell  me  what  he  said  ?  " 

"  I  hadn't  told  mother  about  it  at  all  yet, 
when  he  came.  We  didn't  think  we  ought  to 
tell  her  last  night,  and  to-day  I  was  waiting  till 
after  Harper  had  gone.  It  seemed  better  to  do 
it  that  way.  But  he  came  just  after  she'd  said 
good-by  to  Harper,  before  I  had  a  chance  to  tell 
her.  It  nearly  killed  her.  He  said  there  had 
been  a  Federal  spy  in  the  city  and  that  we  were 
suspected  in  connection  with  it.  And  he  said 
the  man  was  already  arrested." 


210  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"  What  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  I  said  we  hadn't  done  anything  wrong,  but 
there  wasn't  anything  either  of ,  us  would  tell 
him,  then.     And  then  he  went  away." 

This  was  not  very  intelligible  to  Martin.  The 
other  person  included  in  the  "  we  "  could  neither 
be  Winthrop  nor  her  mother. 

He  had  a  question  on  his  tongue,  but  checked 
it  as  he  heard  footsteps  approaching  the  door, 
the  step  of  some  one  in  a  hurry.  Then  the  door, 
without  any  preliminary  formalities,  burst  open, 
and  the  person  burst  into  the  room.  It  was  the 
commandant. 

His  first  words,  addressed  to  Celia,  might 
have  been  an  echo  of  Martin's  own.  "  You  !  " 
he  cried,  "  here  ?  " 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him.  Then,  "  Are 
you  young  people  quite  mad  ? "  he  demanded, 
"  or  are  you  trying  to  compel  me  to  punish  you 
for  last  night's  performance  ?  As  for  you  "  —  he 
turned  to  Martin  —  "  your  ruse  can't  be  kept  up 
any  longer.  I  know,  absolutely,  that  you  are 
not  the  man  who  overpowered  the  picket,  nor 
the  man  who  visited  Mrs.  Townley's  last  night. 
I  know  that  he,  whoever  he  was,  came  here,  to 
this  ship,  that  the  watchman  saw  him,  and  that 
if  he  is  not  concealed  about  here  he  has  fled  by 
the  river  in  the  gig  which  your  mate  tells  me  is 
missing.      I    have    parties   out  looking  for  him 


THE   SPY  211 

who  will  search  every  swamp  and  thicket  be- 
tween here  and  Smithville,  and  unless  he  has 
some  means  of  getting  off  to  sea  we  shall  find 
him.  But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  your  case. 
One  of  you  harbored  that  spy  last  night,  and 
the  other  assisted  him  to  escape.  The  penalty 
for  these  offences  is  extreme,  and  I  want  you  to 
realize  it  fully." 

"  We  haven't  done  anything  wrong,  either  of 
us,"  said  Celia,  defiantly.  ''  We're  not  ashamed 
of  what  we've  done  —  we'd  be  ashamed  if  we 
hadn't  done  it.  And  if  you  knew,  you'd  say  so, 
too.     He  wasn't  a  spy  at  all,  really." 

"  Who  was  he  in  the  first  place  ?  —  Oh,  you 
needn't  be  afraid  to  tell  me  his  name.  That 
isn't  what  we  shall  catch  him  by." 

"He  is  my  younger  brother,"  said  Martin, 
"  Winthrop  Carver,  of  the  Federal  navy." 

"  Lieutenant  Carver,"  corrected  Celia.  The 
quick  look  that  passed  between  them,  Martin's 
of  interrogation,  Celia's  of  something  like  tri- 
umph, did  not  escape  the  keen  eye  of  the  com- 
mandant, though  he  did  not  know  exactly  what 
to  make  of  it. 

"And  you  say  he  didn't  come  as  a  spy,"  he 
proceeded  ironically.  "  How  did  he  come  ? 
With  a  flag  of  truce  ? "  He  wondered  that  it 
had  not  occurred  to  him  before  that  a  little 
anger  kindled  in  her  against  himself,  would  force 


212  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

the  truth  out  of  her  reluctant  mouth,  when  it 
could  not  be  drawn  forth  with  threats  of  the 
direst  tortures. 

"  Of  course  he  came  as  a  spy.  He  was  inside 
our  lines  and  not  in  uniform.  But  he  didn't 
come  to  spy." 

"  Why,  then  ?  " 

"  He  came  to  see  me." 

The  commandant  laughed  shortly.  Then,  in- 
tercepting a  warning  look  Martin  was  directing 
toward  her,  "  Oh,  your  turn  will  come  presently, 
Captain.  Don't  interfere,  please,"  he  said.  "  And 
so  "  —  this  to  Celia  again  —  "  you  tell  me  that 
this  Federal  officer  came  ashore,  broke  through 
our  lines,  took  his  life  in  his  hands  —  good 
Heavens,  no !  he  balanced  it  on  the  tip  of  a  sin- 
gle finger  —  just  for  an  hour  in  your  company? 
I'm  sorry  to  seem  ungallant,  but  I  can't  take  your 
sweetheart's  pretty  compliments  so  literally." 

"  It  wasn't  a  compliment.  It  wasn't  to  me 
he  said  it.     He  gave  his  word  to  — " 

She  stopped  short,  her  eyes  wide  with  terror. 
uOh!  —  Oh!"  she  breathed.  "What  have  I 
said?     What  shall  I  do?" 

The  appeal  was  to  Martin,  but  it  was  not  he 
who  answered.  It  seemed  almost  that  he  had 
not  heard. 

"  Tell  the  truth,"  said  the  commandant.  "  Tell 
the  truth  if  you  value  your  brother's  life,  if  you 
value  his  honor." 


THE   SPY  213 

There  was  no  triumph,  in  his  tone,  nor  any 
trace  of  the  irony  he  had  put  into  it  to  get  the 
girl's  confession  from  her.  It  was  very  grave, 
but  very  pitiful. 

"  Was  he  there  when  Mr.  Carver  came  ? "  he 
went  on.  "  And  was  it  he  who  stood  guard  on 
the  veranda  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  wildly  a  moment,  then 
flung  herself  down  before  him,  clasping  his 
knees.  "  Oh,  he  didn't  do  anything  wrong,  he 
didn't  truly."  She  did  not  voice  her  words  at 
all,  but  still  spoke  in  a  horrified  whisper.  "  You 
couldn't  do  anything  to  him  !  He's  just  a  boy  ! 
I'll  tell  you  all  of  it,  every  word  of  it !  But  you 
must  believe  me  !  " 

"  There,  there,  dear,"  said  the  commandant, 
in  evident  distress,  raising  her  gently.  "  I'll 
believe  you,  of  course.  I  knew  your  mother 
when  she  was  no  older  than  you,  and  I'll  be- 
lieve you  as  I'd  have  believed  her  twenty-five 
years  ago,  or  as  you  believed  your  Yankee 
sweetheart  last  night.  There,  there  !  Take  all 
the  time  you  want." 

It  was  a  little  while  before  she  could  command 
her  voice,  but  she  told,  very  minutely,  all  that 
led  up  to  Harper's  lonely  patrol  on  the  veranda. 

After  she  had  finished,  the  commandant  sat 
a  long  time,  silent  and  with  bent  head.  When 
at  last  he  spoke,  it  was  to  Martin. 


214  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"And  what  can  you  add  to  the  story,  Cap- 
tain ? "  he  asked. 

Martin  seemed  to  force  himself  out  of  a  pro- 
found revery  to  the  consideration  of  the  ques- 
tion. And  even  as  he  told  his  story,  he  spoke 
absently,  though  he  told  it  all.  How  he  had 
thrown  the  severed  end  of  the  boat's  painter 
into  the  river,  how  he  had  shaved  his  beard, 
how  he  had  sent  the  watchman  on  his  quest  of 
the  missing  boat. 

« You  say  he  left  a  note  for  you.  Can  you 
show  it  to  me,  or  will  you  tell  me  what  it 
said  ? 

"  I  destroyed  it,  but  I  can  repeat  it.  It 
said,  <For  God's  sake  try  to  think  what  it 
means.'     There  was  no  signature." 

"  That  was  all  ?  " 

Martin  nodded. 

"  And  what  did  it  mean  ?  " 

"  I  thought  I  knew,"  said  Martin,  very  slowly. 
"I  acted  accordingly.  But  I'm  not  sure  now 
that  I  didn't  misunderstand." 

There  was  another  long  silence,  broken  at 
last  by  the  commandant. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  "this  will  bear  sleep- 
ing over.  I'll  remove  your  arrest.  Captain,  but 
I'll  ask  you  not  to  leave  the  city  without  my 
permission.  As  for  you,  my  dear,"  putting  his 
hand  on  Celia's  head,  "you've  had  about  expe- 


THE   SPY  215 

riences  enough  for  one  twenty-four  hours.  You'd 
better  let  me  take  you  home  to  your  mother." 

They  had  left  the  cabin  before  Martin  spoke. 
"  Celia,"  he  said. 

She  stopped,  and  came  back  to  the  doorway, 
the  commandant  walking  on  a  little  farther. 

"  Celia,"  said  Martin,  ''  I  think  I  understand 
partly ;  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it  now,  but 
may  I  come  sometime  and  tell  you?  May  I 
come  to-morrow  night  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XII 

"  Are  you  quite  easy,"  the  commandant  asked 
after  they  had  walked  several  squares  in  silence, 
"  as  to  the  state  of  your  mother's  health  and 
spirits  ?  I  thought  she  looked  pretty  well  pulled 
down  when  I  saw  her  this  morning." 

"  She's  been  working  too  hard,"  said  Celia,  a 
little  surprised  at  the  abruptness  of  the  question. 

"  I  asked  about  her  health  and  spirits,  but  I 
must  confess  I  was  thinking  more  about  the  lat- 
ter. Isn't  there  anything  besides  the  work  which 
makes  it  hard  for  her  in  these  days  ?  " 

"  You  mean  the  things  they  have  saying  about 
us,  I  suppose,"  she  said  a  little  impatiently. 
"  Of  course  that  has  been  hard,  but  it  can't  be 
helped.  People  have  been  very  silly,  but  I  sup- 
pose they  will  get  tired  of  gossiping  about  us 
some  day.  Till  then  w^e'll  have  to  console  our- 
selves w^ith  knowing  how  silly  it  all  is." 

"  It  may  have  been  silly  once,"  said  the  com- 
mandant, curtly,  "  but  after  last  night  —  " 

"  Last  night  ?     Do  they  know  about  that  ?  " 

"  Where  have  your  eyes  been  since  we  left  the 
Caroline  f  Busy  wath  pretty  fancies  of  one  sort 
and  another,  no  doubt,  but  if  they'd  been  as  wide 

216 


THE   SPY  217 

awake  as  they  generally  are,  you  wouldn't  have 
asked  the  question." 

She  had,  indeed,  as  often  lately,  been  quite 
abstracted  from  her  present  surroundings,  but 
now"  she  was  aware  that  people  had  been  staring 
at  her.  Some  scraps  of  talk  that  had  lodged  in 
her  ears  now  came  to  her  full  consciousness  and 
brought  an  angry  color  into  her  cheeks. 

"  It  w^ill  be  hard  for  her,"  she  said. 

"  I  wonder  — "  the  commandant  found  his 
suggestion  a  hard  one  to  make  and  he  hesitated 
for  the  least  irritating  w^ords  in  which  to  dress 
it —  "I  wonder  if  it  wouldn't  be  wise  to  stand 
out  of  the  storm  until  it  blows  over,  and  if  it 
wouldn't  blow  over  quicker  if  you  did, — if  you 
went  back  to  Nassau,  let  us  say,  for  a  month  or 
two." 

"  No  !  "  she  cried  hotly.  "  They  can  think 
what  they  please  and  do  wdiat  they  please.  We 
haven't  done  anything  wrong,  not  a  thing  in  the 
world  that  we're  ashamed  of,  or  that  we  wouldn't 
do  over  again  to-morrow.  And  as  for  the  busy- 
bodies,  we'll  just  let  them  buzz." 

"Listen,  young  lady."  The  commandant's 
tone  was  peremptory.  "  Listen  to  a  little  common- 
sense.  It  may  have  been  the  busybodies  who 
started  it,  but  after  last  night's  escapade  there's 
only  one  thing  that  people  with  sense  enough 
to  add  two  and  tw^o  can  think.     Now,  it's  all 


218  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

very  well  for  a  young  girl  who  has  a  handsome 
young  lover  —  " 

"  He  isn't,"  said  Celia.  "  At  least  —  you  don't 
understand." 

"  Hm,"  mused  the  commandant.  "  Well,  in 
any  case,  yoxi  seem  to  have  something  that  oc- 
cupies your  mind  pretty  well.  It  may  be  easy 
for  you  to  snap  your  fingers  at  what  people  will 
say,  but  for  your  mother  to  be  branded  as  a 
traitor,  for  her  to  see  her  old  friends,  people  who. 
have  been  her  friends  since  she  was  no  older  than 
you,  refusing  to  look  at  her,  shrinking  away  from 
her  as  though  she  were  contaminated  —  " 

"  The  brutes  !  "  she  whispered.  '«  But  she'll 
think  as  I  do.  When  they  see  how  they're  mis- 
taken, and  when  they  come  and  say  they  were 
mistaken  and  beg  our  pardon,  then  we'll  go  and 
be  glad  to  go.  But  we  won't  run  away  —  we 
won't !  That  would  be  confessing  we'd  done 
wrong.  And  we  won't  disgrace  father  and  Harper 
just  to  save  ourselves  a  little  discomfort.  We 
haven't  done  wrong,  and  some  day  they'll  see  it 
and  be  sorry." 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  you  didn't  mean 
to  do  wrong,  but  let  me  tell  you,  my  dear,  that 
the  whole  affair  last  night  was  incredibly,  almost 
criminally,  foolish,  and  if  you  did  it  all  again  as 
you  just  now  said  you  would,  it  would  be  down- 
right criminal,  and  no  mincing  words  about  it. 


THE   SPY  219 

It  may  all  end  happily  this  time.  This  Yankee 
madcap  of  yours  may  get  off.  I  almost  hope  he 
will  —  not  that  I  won't  go  right  on  trying  to 
catch  him ;  that's  what  war  means.  But  he's 
had  incredible  luck,  and  thanks  to  his  brother  he 
has  a  long  start,  and  he  may  make  it  good.  But 
I  suppose  he's  mad  enough  to  try  to  come  back. 
Judging  from  his  other  performances,  he  might 
do  it  well  enough.  If  he  does,  the  chances  are 
a  thousand  to  one  that  we'll  get  him.  Do  you 
know  what  that  would  mean  ?  Do  you  know 
what  would  have  to  happen,  and  what  would 
happen  to  you  if  you  tried  to  shelter  him  or  get 
him  oif  ?" 

He  could  feel  her  hand  quivering  where  it 
rested  on  his  arm.  "  There,  there,  dear,"  he  said, 
"  think  it  over.  Ask  your  blockade-running 
Yankee  captain  what  he  thinks  about  it.  He's 
got  common-sense  enough  for  all  of  you.  Ask 
him  if  he  doesn't  think  he'd  better  take  you  back 
to  Nassau  with  him." 

They  had  reached  her  gate,  and  with  a  brief 
word  of  farewell  he  left  her,  not  less  indignant 
with  him,  for  the  moment,  for  all  she  compre- 
hended how  great  a  debt  she  owed  him  or  that 
she  unwillingly  suspected  that  there  might  be 
more  than  a  grain  of  truth  in  what  he  said.  It 
was  irritating,  at  best,  to  have  one's  heroics 
brought  about  one's  ears  in  this  sort  of  way,  and 


220  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

as  she  walked  up  the  path  towards  the  house, 
she  said  to  herself  that  he'd  see  that  even  if  they 
were  all  silly  that  they  had  minds  of  their  own, 
and  if  he  wanted  them  to  leave  town  he'd  better 
give  orders  to  that  effect  in  so  many  words. 

But  her  mother  opened  the  door  for  her,  and 
the  sight  of  the  almost  feverish  eagerness  in  her 
face  brought  her  out  of  this  train  of  thought  in 
a  flash. 

"  It's  all  right,  Mummy,"  she  cried ;  "  as 
right  as  possible." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it  as  quickly  as  you  can," 
said  Mrs.  Townley  ;  and  then,  unconscious  that 
she  was  delaying  the  recital,  she  went  on,  "I'm 
so  glad  you've  come  back.  I'd  begun  to  worry 
for  fear  Harper  might  be  concei'ned  in  it.  That 
was  silly  of  me,  wasn't  it,  dear  ?  But  you're 
quite  sure  he's  not,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he's  clear,"  she  said,  "  and  we're  clear, 
and  Winthrop  isn't  caught  at  all  and  they  think 
he'll  get  off,  and  Martin  isn't  under  arrest  any 
more." 

«  Martin  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'd  forgotten  you  didn't  know  all  about 
it.  It  seems  so  long  ago."  And  then,  bright- 
eyed,  bright-cheeked,  she  told  her  mother  the 
story, — told  it  as  she  had  once  before  told  her 
a  story  of  the  captain  of  the  Southern  Cross, 
proudly,  as  though  he  belonged  to  her. 


THE   SPY  221 

Her  mother  made  no  comment  when  she  had 
finished,  and  she  herself  sat  silent  awhile.  Then 
she  added,  a  little  shyly,  "  He's  coming  to  see 
us  to-morrow  night." 

Looking  up  for  some  reply,  she  noticed  what 
her  absorption  in  her  story  had  kept  her  from 
seeing  before,  how  old  her  mother's  face  looked, 
how  drawn,  as  if  with  physical  pain.  "What  is 
it  ?  "  she  cried.  She  slipped  her  arm  around  her 
waist  and  drew  her  down  on  the  sofa  beside 
her. 

"  I  know,"  she  said.  "  You're  working  your- 
self to  death,  and  worrying  too,  and  I've  been 
a  beast  and  I've  put  all  my  worries  off  on  your 
shoulders,  as  though  you  hadn't  enough  of  your 
own.  But  we'll  do  better  after  this.  Mummy. 
Did  you  go  to  the  sewing-circle  to-day  ?  — -  Why, 
Mummy !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me  about  it,  dear.  You'll  be 
happier  not  to  know,  and  I'll  be  happier  not  to 
tell  it.  But  Celia,"  —  and  her  voice  had  a  note 
of  terror  in  it  —  "  what  can  w^e  do  ?  It  wasn't 
only  there,  it  was  in  the  streets,  it  was  every- 
where. Celia,  I'll  never,  never  go  out  of  that 
door  again,  not  till  the  war  is  over.  I  don't 
think  I  can  bear  it.     I  think  it  will  kill  me." 

There  was  a  strangeness  to  the  girl  in  the 
realization  that  it  was  her  own  support,  her 
refuge,  her  mother,  who  lay  quivering  in  her  lap. 


222  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

to  be  comforted,  but  there  was  a  strange  sweet- 
ness about  it,  too.  She  was  surprised  to  find 
how  cool  she  was,  how^  quiet  her  hands  were  as 
they  stroked  the  brown-gray  head. 

"  It  won't  last  forever,  mother  dear.  People 
forget.     And  after  all,  we  know  —  " 

"  It's  not  the  people,  it's  not  what  they  say 
that's  the  worst  of  it,"  said  her  mother,  brokenly. 
"  If  I  could  be  sure  —  Celia  —  "  and  her  voice 
vibrated  with  a  strange  intensity  —  "  Celia,  are 
you  sure  that  we  are  right,  that  the  South  is 
right  ?  " 

"  No,"  the  girl  answered  calmly.  "  I've  tried 
to,  I've  tried  with  all  my  might.  And  then  I 
pretended  I  was  sure  so  hard  that  I  almost  be- 
lieved it.  But  when  Harper  asked  me  that,  last 
night,  I  had  to  tell  him  that  I  wasn't." 

"  You  told  Harper  !  And  he  said  —  What  did 
he  say,  Celia  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  "  I  think  he 
understood,"  said  the  girl,  deliberately. 

"  Mother,"  she  went  on,  after  a  little  silence. 
"  Mother  dear,  don't  you  think  perhaps  we'd 
better  go  away  ?  " 

"  Where  could  we  go  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  they'd  forget  sooner  if  we  went 
away.  We  could  hardly  do  anything  here  that 
wouldn't  make  them  suspect  us  all  the  more. 
They  won't  let  us  help  any  more,  I  suppose,  at 


THE   SPY  223 

the  hospital  or  by  making  things.  But  when 
it's  over  they'll  understand  better,  I  hope." 

"  But  where  could  we  go  ?  "  her  mother  re- 
peated. "  It  would  only  be  worse  anywhere 
else." 

"  I  mean  go  away  altogether.  Go  to  Nassau, 
perhaps." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  her  mother,  wearily. 
"  My  head  seems  to  be  wrong  somehow.  I  can't 
think  any  more  to-day." 

It  became  increasingly  evident  as  the  evening 
wore  on  that  Mrs.  Townley  had  pushed  even  her 
great  endurance  a  little  too  far.  Celia  knew  that 
it  could  be  no  new  strain  that  had  broken  her, 
but  one  she  had  been  carrying  a  long  while, 
one  that  any  vision  less  self-centred  than  her 
own  had  been  during  these  last  months  must 
have  seen.  But  with  the  sting  of  this  self-re- 
proach there  came  to  the  girl  the  glad,  proud 
resolve  that  now,  at  last,  she  would  lighten  it, 
bear  it  all  herself,  not  make  it  heavier.  They 
played  a  desultory  game  of  cribbage  after  sup- 
per, but  before  long,  with  gentle  compulsion, 
Celia  put  her  mother  to  bed. 

The  girl  herself  was  well  worn  out  after  her 
twenty-four  hours  of  intense  experience,  and 
when  her  mother  had  fallen  asleep,  and  she  had 
sat  for  half  an  hour  in  the  silent  house,  trying 
to  read,  something  like  homesickness  crept  over 


224  TRAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 

her.  The  sense  that  she  could  no  longer  cuddle 
her  head,  child-fashion,  in  her  mother's  bosom 
and  be  comforted  came  as  acutely  as  a  stab  of 
pain. 

"  Don't  you  dare  cry ! "  she  said  to  herself, 
defiantly,  as  she  was  preparing  to  follow  her 
mother  to  bed.  "  You've  cried  quite  enough 
lately  to  last  all  the  rest  of  your  life.  And  if 
you  haven't  learned  to  walk  alone  yet  it's  time 
you  did." 

And  yet,  was  she  walking  quite  alone  ?  Was 
there  not  a  sense  that  some  one  else  could  help 
her?  Some  one  strong  enough  to  carry  any  load 
of  trouble  as  easily  as  he  had  carried  old  John 
Carver  in  his  arms  that  day  when  they  had  the 
news  of  Bull  Run,  some  one  brave  enough  not 
only  to  do  but  to  wait,  to  steam  slowly  along 
under  fire,  taking  soundings.  It  was  strange  the 
way  this  old  feeling  had  taken  possession  of  her 
again.  Nothing  had  been  explained.  He  was 
still  a  traitor.  Yet  now,  at  last,  she  believed 
with  Winthrop  that  the  skein  would  come  un- 
tangled. "  Ask  your  blockade-running  Yankee 
what  he  thinks  about  it."  The  words  had 
offended  her  when  the  commandant  had  said 
them,  but  she  repeated  them  now  to  herself  with 
a  little  sigh  of  contentment.  "  I  will  ask  him 
to  decide  it  when  he  comes  to-morrow  night  — 
to-morrow  night."    And  with  that  she  fell  asleep. 


THE   SPY  225 

It  was  not  to  be  to-morrow  night,  however. 
In  the  morning  Celia  woke  to  find  her  mother 
in  a  fever,  unmistakably  ill.  She  sent  their 
one  servant  after  the  doctor,  and  awaited  his 
arrival  rather  nervously.  He  told  her,  however, 
that  there  was  nothing  to  be  seriously  alarmed 
about.  They  must  keep  her  quiet  for  two  or 
three  days.  "  She  really  needs  a  long  rest, 
though,  not  so  much  for  her  body  as  for  her 
mind,"  he  concluded.  "  Don't  let  her  think  any 
more  than  you  can  help  for  a  long  time ;  keep 
her  diverted.  And  for  a  day  or  two,  until  this 
fever  goes  down,  keep  her  absolutely  quiet.  It's 
important." 

After  he  had  gone  she  sat  down  to  write  a 
note  to  Martin.  She  told  him  of  her  mother's 
condition,  and  that,  because  of  it,  she  must  not 
ask  him  to  come  that  night.  So  far  the  note 
had  flowed  easily  enough  off  from  her  pen. 
Then,  "  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  wrote,  "  and  I 
hope  that  by  to-morrow  night  I  can  see  you  for 
a  little  while,  if  you  can  come  then."  She 
hesitated  therCo  The  note  was  done,  all  but 
the  signature,  but  that —  She  knew  how 
she  wanted  to  sign  it,  and  with  a  quickly 
intaken  breath  she  wrote  "  Celia  "  under  the  last 
line. 

There  !  She  had  spoiled  it.  And  note-paper 
was  already  almost  as  scarce  as  bank-notes  in 


226  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

the  Confederacy.  It  became,  it  may  be  added, 
a  deal  scarcer  before  Fort  Fisher  fired  its  last 
gun.  But  no,  this  note  could  be  saved  after  all. 
She  could  write  "  sincerely  "  before  "  Celia,"  and 
"  Townley  "  after  it,  and  it  would  be  as  decorous 
as  possible.  She  dipped  her  pen  in  the  home- 
made ink.  Of  course  she  must  do  it.  He  had 
only  called  her  «'  Celia  "  once  in  all  his  life  with- 
out putting  a  "  Miss  "  before  it.  But  before  she 
tried  to  write  it  the  ink  had  dried  on  her  pen. 

She  heard  her  mother  in  the  next  room  stir- 
ring uneasily,  waking  from  a  feverish  slumber. 
She  dropped  the  pen,  folded  the  bit  of  paper  as 
it  was,  and  sealed  it.  Then  she  went  in  to  her 
mother. 

That  day,  passed,  almost  every  moment  of  it, 
at  the  invalid's  bedside,  was  almost  as  good  for 
Celia  as  it  was  for  her  mother.  While  Mrs. 
Townley  slept,  as  she  did  through  many  hours, 
Celia  read  an  old  novel ;  when  she  waked  they 
talked  about  old  times  or  played  cribbage  to- 
gether. The  only  break  in  these  employments 
was  the  return  of  the  servant  who  had  taken 
Martin's  note,  with  his  reply  that  he  would 
come  to-morrow  evening.  A  week  ago  a  day 
like  this  would  have  tortured  her,  but  the  tem- 
pestuous twenty-four  hours  just  passed  seemed 
to  have  w^orked  a  transformation,  seemed  to  have 
left  her  some  one  else.    The  old,  unhappy  restless- 


THE   SPY  227 

ness  was  gone,  and  the  new  contentment  was 
strangely  sweet  by  contrast. 

The  next  day  began  somewhat  more  event- 
fully,  but  they  were  all  events  of  a  pleasant 
sort.  Mrs.  Townley  was  much  better,  to  begin 
with,  was  almost  her  old  self  again,  it  seemed. 
Then  the  morning's  mail  brought  a  note  from 
Harper,  and  the  morning's  newspaper,  confess- 
ing that  it  had  been  misled  by  a  most  extraor- 
dinary chain  of  circumstances  into  suspecting 
Captain  Martin  Carver  of  having  been  the  spy, 
now  formally  withdrew  its  charges,  stated  that 
new  evidence  had  placed  him  entirely  above 
suspicion,  and  offered  him  its  apologies  and  con- 
gratulations. It  added  that  though  search  for 
the  spy  was  still  being  kept  up,  it  was  generally 
though  regretfully  admitted  that  he  had,  in  all 
probability,  already  made  good  his  escape  to  the 
blockading  fleet. 

Harper's  note  had  given  Celia  an  idea,  and 
immediately  after  their  midday  dinner  she  pre- 
pared to  put  it  into  execution. 

"  I  think,  dear,"  she  said  to  her  mother,  "  that 
if  you  can  spare  me  half  an  hour,  I'll  go  and  see 
Dolly." 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  ? "  her  mother  asked,  a 
little  nervously.  "  Won't  people  —  aren't  there 
any  staring  at  the  house  as  they  were  that 
day  ?  » 


228  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"  If  there  are,"  she  laughed,  "  I  hope  they  may 
see  enough  to  reward  their  pains." 

For  all  that,  before  she  reached  the  Sherwins' 
house,  she  was  hurrying  faster  than  she  had 
meant  to  hurry  and  her  face  was  flushed  with 
anger. 

It  was  Dolly  herself  who  opened  the  door 
and  who  tried  hard  to  cloak  her  surprise  under 
her  dignity  when  she  saw  who  her  visitor  was. 
Celia  slipped  inside  the  door  without  waiting  for 
the  rather  tardy  invitation. 

Dolly  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  then, 
drawing  her  dignity  a  little  tighter  about  her, 
waited.  Celia  was  looking  at  her  silently. 
Something  not  quite  a  smile  was  on  her  lips ; 
something  not  quite  an  appeal  was  in  her  eyes. 
"  Dolly  !  "  she  said. 

The  cloak  fell  away.  "Oh,  Celia,  Celia,  I'm 
so  glad  you've  come  back." 

"  I  was  a  beast,"  said  Celia.  "  I  didn't 
know  it,  but  I  was  —  to  mother,  and  to  you 
and  Harper.  We  had  a  note  from  Harper 
this  morning.  I  thought  perhaps  you'd  like  to 
see  it." 

"  I  would,  very  much." 

"  Oh,  you  little  hypocrite ! "  laughed  Celia, 
drawing  her  up  close  in  a  tight  hug  and  kissing 
her  burning  face.  "  You'd  like  to  hear  from  him, 
wouldn't  you?     As  though  you  hadn't  a  great 


THE   SPY  229 

long  letter  of  your  own.  Yes,  you  have.  I  can 
hear  it  crackle  this  minute.  Now  tell  me  about 
it,  instantly." 

It  was  a  good  deal  more  than  a  half  hour  they 
spent  together,  but  at  last  Celia  said  she  must  go 
back.  "  Mother's  not  well.  She's  been  having  a 
bad  time  lately.  You  know  about  it,  of  course. 
I  think,  Dolly,  that  perhaps  we'll  go  away,  go 
back  to  Nassau,  I  mean,  or  to  some  place  like 
that.  I  don't  believe  she  can  stand  it  here  after 
these  last  few  days." 

Dolly's  eyes  were  big  with  questions,  and 
Celia  knew  what  they  were  as  well  as  if  they 
had  come  to  her  lips. 

"  Dolly,"  she  said,  "  I  couldn't  tell  you  quite 
all  of  it  —  yet,  but  if  you  w^ant  me  to,  I'll  tell 
you  almost  all." 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  anything,  unless  you  want 
to." 

"  Some  day,"  said  Celia,  "  you  shall  know  all 
about  it ;  every  word.  That  will  be  better, 
won't  it  ?  But  Dolly,  whatever  you  hear,  or 
have  heard,  you'll  believe  me,  won't  you,  that 
we  haven't  done  anything  wrong  ?  We  haven't 
done  anything  that  Harper  doesn't  know  about, 
and  that  he  doesn't  think  was  right." 

"  He  can  think  w^hat  he  pleases,"  said  Dolly, 
with  splendid  independence.  "  I'll  believe  you 
always,  Celia,  and  —  and  I  always  have.     They 


230  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

will  say  things  if  you  go  away.  But  then  they'll 
say  them  anyw^ay." 

She  kissed  Celia  as  if  this  was,  already,  their 
parting.  "  And  I'll  just  tell  them,"  she  added, 
"  that  they'd  better  not  try  to  say  them  to  me." 

The  rest  of  the  afternoon  wore  away  rather 
slowly,  but  the  twilight  came  at  last,  and  Celia 
slipped  off  to  her  own  room,  to  get  ready,  she 
said,  for  supper.  She  was  a  good  while  about 
it,  and  when  she  returned,  canying  her  lighted 
candle  with  her,  her  mother  uttered  a  little 
exclamation  and  then  laughed  softly,  a  laugh 
that  had  more  mirth  in  it  than  Celia  had  heard 
from  her  lips  in  many  weeks. 

Celia  blushed,  but  she  smiled  too.  Then, 
"  Will  he  think  it's  very  silly  of  me.  Mummy  ?  " 
she  asked. 

Her  mother  only  laughed  again,  but  this 
seemed  to  be  answer  enough  for  the  girl.  "  I 
should  think  one  might  be  allowed  to  look 
respectable  once  in  a  while,"  she  said. 

To  the  more  enthusiastically  loyal  all  through 
the  South,  it  seemed  unpatriotic  to  buy  any  but 
the  sternest  necessities  of  the  blockade-runners. 
There  was  not  much  room  for  cargo  in  these 
slim,  shallow  craft.  At  best  their  visits  were 
irregular  and  precarious,  and  it  followed  that 
every  pair  of  high-heeled  slippers  meant  one  less 
pair  of  soldier's  boots,  every  bit  of  lace  one  less 


THE   SPY  231 

blanket,  every  vanity  v^hatever  one  less  necessity 
for  the  v^ant  of  which  the  soldiers  were  suffering. 
So,  even  for  such  luxuries  as  coffee,  sugar,  wheat 
flour,  shoes,  stockings,  clothing  generally,  one 
found  or  made  at  home  something  that  w^ould 
serve  as  a  substitute.  And  if  one  ventured  to 
wear  a  pair  of  commercially  manufactured 
gloves,  for  example,  "  Oh,  you've  run  the  block- 
ade," was  the  phrase  in  which  the  fact  was 
noted.  There  was  an  implication  in  it  one  did 
not  wholly  like  to  hear. 

But  Celia  had  "  run  the  blockade  "  in  person, 
and  it  could  be  forgiven  to  her  —  or  if  not  it  was 
out  of  clear  envy  —  that  her  shoes  were  of  kid 
and  not  of  canvas  tacked  upon  wooden  soles, 
that  she  wore  white  silk  stockings,  and  that 
all  together  she  looked  as  fluffy  and  fresh  as  any 
of  her  sisters  had  looked  a  year  ago. 

She  had  dressed  to-night  in  the  same  pink 
gown  she  had  worn  at  Mr.  OdelFs  dinner  in 
Liverpool.  "  I  keep  getting  thinner  and  thinner," 
she  observed,  looking  critically  at  her  bare 
shoulders.  ''  If  it  goes  on  much  longer,  I'll  have 
to  wear  dresses  clear  up  to  my  chin." 

"  You  look  all  the  better  for  a  bone  or  two," 
said  her  mother.  ''  You  look  lovely.  I  feel  like 
kissing  you  —  myself." 

"  Mother !  " 

She    intended,  it   seemed,  to  make  a  stately 


232  TEAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

exit,  but  thought  better  of  it,  and  coming  over 
to  the  bed  laid  both  her  hands  on  Mrs.  Townley's 
shoulders.  "  You're  well,"  she  said.  "  You  can't 
impose  on  me  another  minute.  I'm  going  to 
make  you  come  down  and  see  him  yourself." 

She  did  not  carry  out  her  threat,  however. 
Half-past  seven  saw  Mrs.  Townley  already  set- 
tled for  the  night  and  Celia  in  the  sitting-room, 
with  a  bit  of  sewing  to  occupy  her  hands,  wait- 
ing for  Martin.  It  was  another  ugly  night,  much 
such  a  night  as  the  one  through  w^hich  his 
brother  had  come  to  see  her ;  but  now  it  seemed 
to  her  that  the  rattle  of  wind  and  rain  with- 
out served  only  to  make  the  half-lit  room  more 
cheerful. 

She  was  so  happy  in  anticipating  his  coming 
that  she  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  his  mood 
would  be  the  same  as  hers,  that  the  torturing 
strain  of  his  late  anxieties  and  fears  would  by 
now  have  relaxed  as  her  own  had  done.  And, 
curiously,  she  was  not  disappointed. 

For  the  first  few  minutes,  indeed,  after  they 
had  drawn  close  to  the  fire,  he  had  seemed  to  her 
haggard,  grave,  preoccupied,  but  presently  he 
threw  off  this  mood  as  he  had  thrown  off  the 
great  wet  ulster  which  had  enveloped  him  when 
he  came  in  out  of  the  storm.  He  settled  back 
more  easily  in  his  chair,  and  the  deep,  drawn 
lines  in  his  face  slackened. 


THE   SPY  233 

She  echoed  the  movement  with  one  of  her 
own,  hitched  her  low  chair  a  little  nearer  the 
fire  and  a  very  little  nearer  his,  leaned  forward 
in  it,  resting  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  chin 
in  her  hands,  and  drew  a  little  sigh  of  content- 
ment.     "  There,"  she  said. 

With  that  their  talk  began  to  flow  easily, 
drifting  back  to  old  times,  to  the  old  days  on  the 
Southern  Cross.  From  there  Celia  led  it  back 
further,  into  his  stormy  boyhood,  interspersing 
now  and  then,  when  the  contrast  struck  her 
forcibly,  tales  of  her  own  childish  experiences, 
but  always  leading  it  back  again  to  himself, 
demanding  with  an  eagerness  hard  for  him  to 
understand  more  of  his  stories  of  the  sea.  She 
seemed  to  be  following  out  a  train  of  thoughts 
of  her  own,  to  which  he  had  not  the  clew. 

"  And  you  did  that ! "  she  interrupted  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  his  narrations.  "But  you  knew 
it  was  wrong.  You  knew  it  might  wreck  the 
ship." 

"  That  wasn't  my  affair.  I  was  a  common 
sailor.     He  was  the  officer  of  the  watch." 

"  But  you  had  a  right  to  have  common-sense. 
Why  didn't  you  go  to  the  captain  and  tell 
him  —  " 

He  laughed  rather  grimly.  "  I  never  was 
flogged  myself,"  he  said,  "but  I've  seen  a  man 
given  a  taste  of  the  rope  for  less  than  that." 


234  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

"  Do  they  whip  men  ?  "  she  asked,  wide-eyed. 

"  Not  often,  now." 

"  What  different  worlds  we've  lived  in,"  she 
said  thoughtfully  after  a  little  silence.  "  I've 
never  minded  any  one,  really,  in  all  my  life,  or 
not  since  I  was  a  little  girl.  Mother  would  tell 
me  she  thought  it  best,  perhaps,  and  she'd  al- 
ways tell  me  why,  and  I'd  do  what  she  wanted 
me  to  do  because  I  liked  to  please  her.  Nobody 
ever  ordered  me  —  but  Harper."  Her  laugh 
told  well  enough  what  sort  of  obedience  those 
orders  had  had.  "  But  you,  you  used  to  do 
things  just  because  people  said  to  do  them." 

"  I  do  yet,"  he  corrected.  "  Most  of  us  have 
to  obey  somebody  all  our  lives.  It  may  not  be 
the  boatswain,  but  whether  it's  he  or  the  cap- 
tain or  the  owners,  it  comes  to  the  same  thing." 

"  But  the  owner,  when  you  were  captain,  was 
your  own  father." 

"  Oh,  we're  father  and  son.  But  we're  owner 
and  captain,  too.  And  the  first  doesn't  make 
any  difference  about  the  second." 

That,  too,  made  her  thoughtfully  silent  for 
a  little.  She  roused  herself  with  a  different 
subject. 

«  Martin,"  she  asked,  "  do  you  think  we  ought 
to  go  away,  mother  and  I  ?  " 

He  had  already  thought  that  out,  and  he  had 
an  answer  for  her,  but  he  took  a  moment  as  if 


THE   SPY  235 

in  consideration,  just  to  enjoy  the  sound  of  his 
name  on  her  lips.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
used  it.  Winthrop  had  been  "  Mr.  Winthrop " 
from  the  first ;  that  had  been  necessary  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  his  father.  But  Martin  she 
had  always,  half  playfully,  called  "  Captain," 
when  she  used  any  form  of  address  at  all. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  ought,"  he  answered  at 
last. 

"  We  don't  want  to.  We'll  do  it  if  it's  best, 
of  course,  but  —  you  wouldn't  want  to  run  away 
yourself,  would  you,  with  people  talking  as 
they  talk  about  us  ?  Not  until  you'd  shown 
them  they  were  wrong." 

He  used  the  same  argument  that  the  com- 
mandant  had  called  up  to  clinch  the  matter. 

"  You  know  Winthrop  as  well  as  I  do — better, 
I  suppose.  Aren't  you  afraid  he  may  come  back 
if  you  stay  here  ?  He  won't  know,  of  course, 
how  close  they  were  on  his  heels,  nor  that  his 
visit  involved  you  at  all.  If  he  did  come  back, 
it's  hardly  possible  that  he  could  get  off  again. 
You  want  to  think  what  it  would  mean  to  you, 
if  —  " 

She  looked  at  him  quickly,  no  less  puzzled  by 
the  words  than  by  the  tone  in  which  they  were 
spoken. 

They  had  heard  no  approaching  steps  outside, 
and  were   both  a  little  startled  by  a  quick,  ner- 


236  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

vous  little  rat-tat  on  the  door.  She  opened  it, 
he  standing  close  beside  her. 

"  Oh ! "  she  said,  peering  out  into  the  dark. 
"  Mr.  Odell !     Come  in." 

With  all  her  training,  with  the  Southern  tradi- 
tion of  unquestioning  hospitality  she  had  always 
had  about  her,  she  could  not  manage  to  get  into 
her  tone  the  warmth  of  genuine  invitation. 
"  You  must  be  dreadfully  wet,"  she  went  on, 
doing  a  little  better.  "  How  good  of  you  it 
was  to  come  on  such  a  night ! " 

"  It  is  a  bit  nasty,"  he  said,  as  Martin  helped 
him  out  of  his  mackintosh. 

"  So  you're  here,"  he  went  on,  addressing 
Martin,  when  they  were  all  seated.  "  I  thought 
you  always  tried  to  sleep  for  about  three  days 
before  you  started  out." 

"  Pve  still  time  for  sleep  enough,"  the  captain 
answered. 

"  How  would  you  like  that  sort  of  life.  Miss 
Townley?  I  don't  see  how  men  live  at  it  at  all. 
I  hope  your  mother  is  quite  well,"  he  concluded. 

Celia  informed  him  in  brief  of  her  mother's 
condition,  and  prophesied  how  sorry  she  would 
be  to  have  missed  his  call. 

"  I  am  much  concerned  to  hear  she's  ill,"  he 
said.  "  I  trust  it's  not  serious.  Nothing  has  hap- 
pened, no  bad  news  from  the  front,  or  anything 
of  that  sort,  to  bring  on  the  attack  ?  " 


THE   SPY  237 

"No,"  Celia   told   him.      She    was  overtired, 
that  was   all. 

With  both  the  young  people  wondering  why 
he  had  come,  and  wishing  that  he  would  go,  it 
was  really  no  wonder  that  Mr.  Odell's  talk  did 
not  prosper.  They  did  not  mean  to  be  rude  to 
him,  indeed  it  was  evident  that  they  were  trying 
their  best  not  to  be,  but  it  was  up-hill  work. 
His  social  perceptions  were  as  quick  as  those 
which  stood  him  in  such  good  stead  in  a  com- 
mercial w^ay,  and  he  was  perfectly  aware  that  in 
his  present  position  he  was  an  unpleasant  inter- 
ruption ;  that,  whatever  had  been  the  thread  of 
their  talk  it  would  not  be  taken  up  again  till  he 
was  gone.  That  alone,  though  it  is  a  common 
enough  experience,  is  always  irritating,  but  it 
was  only  half  the  trouble  with  Mr.  Odell.  If  he 
was  an  interruption  to  Martin,  Martin  was  an 
obstacle  to  him.  In  Martin's  presence  his  errand 
to  the  Townleys'  house  was  a  little  difficult  to 
broach. 

He  w^as  in  the  habit  of  finding  situations  easy 
to  manage,  and  the  evident  impossibility  of 
managing  this  one  put  him  out  of  temper. 

"  You  may  remember,  Martin,  my  speaking  of 
having  seen  Captain  Dearborn  a  prisoner  here  on 
his  way  to  Andersonville.  Well,  I  learned  to-day 
that  he  and  that  sailor  who  was  with  him  are 
here  in  the  city  jail   at  Wilmington.     It   seems 


238  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

that  there  was   something  irregular  about  their 
exchange,  —  their  foi'mer  exchange,    I   mean  !  " 

He  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  he  had 
stung  Martin  out  of  his  revery  at  last. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  irregularity  about  his 
exchange  ?     Was  there  any  exchange  at  all  ?  " 

"  I  heard  very  indirectly  about  it.  I  really 
don't  know  any  more  than  that." 

Martin  asked  no  more  questions,  but  sat  frown- 
ing heavily  over  the  news ;  and  Celia,  who  chose 
to  ask  the  questions  that  occurred  to  her  of  him 
on  another  occasion,  was  silent,  too. 

So  again  it  was  Mr.  Odell  who  launched  a 
new  topic,  but  this  time  it  was  in  a  different 
manner,  the  manner  of  one  who  knows  exactly 
what  he  is  going  to  do.  He  had  taken  the  bull 
by  the  horns.     He  was  coming  to  the  point. 

"  I'm  afraid  a  good  many  of  us  have  our 
romantic  moments.  Miss  Townley.  Martin,  here, 
when  I  told  him  that  Captain  Dearborn  was  a 
prisoner,  wanted  to  '  cut  him  out  and  carry  him 
off  to  Nassau.'  And  this  escapade  of  Winthrop's, 
for  I  suppose,  of  course,  it  was  Winthrop,  was 
as  madly  romantic  as  possible.  I've  even  heard 
that,  not  content  with  paying  Martin  a  visit,  he 
came  to  see  you,  also." 

She  colored  vividly  and  drew  herself  up  a 
little  straighter,  but  made  no  reply,  although 
his  pause  had  invited  it. 


THE   SPY  239 

"  Miss  Celia,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  to  pry 
into  your  affairs  or  into  Martin's,  here,  or  into 
Winthrop's,  wherever  he  may  be.  I'm  sm-e  there 
is  a  great  deal  more  to  that  story  than  I  know, 
but  I'm  not  concerned  in  it,  except  in  so  far  as 
it  may  affect  me  personally,  or  as  it  may  affect 
our  business  here,  Mr.  Carver's  and  mine.  But 
I  hear  a  good  deal,  one  way  and  another,  about 
town,  and  I've  heard  a  good  deal  in  the  last  dsiy  or 
two  to  make  me  rather  anxious  as  to  the  part 
you  may  have  had  in  this  adventure.  I  only 
hear  what  people  think  —  I  don't  know  how 
much  or  how  little  of  it  may  be  true.  But  I 
came  to-night  for  one  thing,  —  to  ask  if  you'd 
thought  of  going  away,  by  way  of  Nassau,  I 
mean." 

"  Why  do  you  want  us  to  go  away,  Mr.  Odell  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  It's  on  your  own  account,  of  course.  I 
thought  possibly  —  " 

Martin  was  listening  to  something,  to  some 
sound  out  of  doors,  apparently,  which  it  puzzled 
him  to  account  for,  and  Mr.  Odell,  rather  glad 
of  the  diversion,  stopped  to  listen,  too.  In  a  lull 
between  two  great  gusts  of  wind  they  heard  it 
plainly. 

A  human  noise  is  almost  always  perfectly  dis- 
tinguishable from  any  other  sort.  There  is  almost 
always,  if  it  be  repeated,  a  more  or  less  obvious 


240  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

rhythm  about  it.  But  this  sound,  like  a  patrol  of 
unsteady  feet,  lacked  that  quality.  It  was  coming 
nearer  now.  The  feet,  if  they  were  human  feet, 
were  coming  up  the  steps.  There  was  a  thud 
against  the  door,  and  then  something  like,  but, 
because  of  this  same  lack  of  rhythm,  strangely 
unlike,   the  knock  of  a  hand  on  the  panels. 

Martin  was  at  the  door  before  the  others  had 
fairly  risen  from  their  chairs.  He  turned  the 
knob,  but  it  moved  stiffly.  The  man,  or  what- 
ever it  was  on  the  other  side,  was  holding  it. 
And  as  he  opened  the  door  into  the  room,  the 
man,  somehow,  came  in  with  it. 

Then,  in  a  flash,  Martin's  right  arm  shot 
around  him,  and  lifted  him  bodily,  clear  of  the 
path  of  the  door,  which  his  left  hand  in  the 
same  inappreciable  period  of  time  thrust  to  and 
locked.  At  the  first  grip  of  his  arm  the  man 
had  begun  to  struggle,  but  until  the  lock  was 
shot  home  Martin  held  him  with  his  one  arm. 
Then  with  both  arms,  that  could  be  gentle 
because  they  were  so  strong,  he  held  him  stiU. 

"  Winthrop,  old  man,  don't  you  know  me  ?  " 
he  said. 


\ 


\s 


*"Winthrop,  old  man,  don't  you  know  me? 


CHAPTER   XIII 

"  We  must  be  quick,"  said  Celia,  breathlessly. 
"  They  may  have  seen  him  come  in.  We  must 
do  something  quickly." 

But  what  ?  There  was  a  silence  long  enough 
to  be  measured  by  minutes,  after  Martin  had 
carried  him,  quite  inert  after  his  momentary 
struggle,  to  the  sofa  and  laid  him  there.  Mar- 
tin sat  on  the  edge  of  it,  one  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
the  other  thrust  beneath  the  bosom  of  his  wet 
flannel  shirt.  Celia  stood  close  beside,  and  Mr. 
Odell  a  little  farther  off,  holding  by  the  back  of 
a  chair  and  swaying  thoughtfully  to  and  fro. 

How  in  the  name  of  wonder  he  came  to  be 
there,  how  in  his  condition  he  had  come  through 
the  picket  line,  had  wandered  unnoticed  through 
the  streets,  had  found  this  house  —  these  ques- 
tions could  wait ;  indeed,  they  never  really  knew. 
But  it  was  another  question  altogether  which 
held  them  silent,  which  mocked  their  efforts  to 
answer  it,  yet  seemed  with  every  tick  of  the 
loud-voiced  clock  to  cry  out  more  importunately 
for  the  answer. 

Mr.  Odell  was  the  first  to  try. 

E  241 


242  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

It  was  one  of  the  ironies  of  chance  that  he 
should  be  there.  His  making  this  evening  visit, 
his  trying  to  induce  Mrs.  Townley  and  her  daugli- 
ter  to  leave  the  city,  had  something  indeed  to 
justify  them.  He  had  heard  the  talk  of  the  town  ; 
he  had,  to  a  certain  extent,  shared  the  town's 
suspicions.  But  his  motive  had  been  a  selfish 
one,  a  small  one,  even  as  small  motives  go.  He 
had  seen  that  by  staying  longer  in  the  city  these 
two  women  might  easily  impair  the  efficiency  of 
his  best  asset,  Captain  Martin  Carver.  Things 
would  run  more  smoothly  if  they  were  away, 
whether  there  were  any  truth  in  the  town  talk 
or  not.  So,  on  this  night,  at  this  hour,  he  had 
come  to  this  house.  So  he  had  stepped  out  of  a 
tolerably  comfortable  frying-pan  into  a  veritable 
glowing,  fiery  furnace.  But  the  fire  seemed  to 
be  just  what  Mr.  Odell's  rather  thickly  crusted 
soul  needed. 

"  Would  it  be  possible,"  he  asked,  "  to  put  him 
into  a  boat  and  row  him  down  the  river  and  out 
to  one  of  the  cruisers  ?  Could  we  do  it  together  ? 
I've  not  handled  a  scull  for  a  good  many  years, 
but  I'd  do  what  I  could." 

Both  Celia  and  Martin  felt  a  little  surprise  — 
afterward.  There  was  no  room  for  it  now,  nor 
for  gratitude,  for  anything  but  the  struggle  with 
the  Question. 

"  We    couldn't    do    it,"    said  Martin,    after  a 


THE   SPY  243 

moment.  "  The  sea  that's  running  outside  to- 
night would  swamp  any  of  these  little  river 
boats  —  especially  with  his  dead  weight  in  it. 
If  he  were  himself  we  could  try  it.  We  could 
hide  in  Walden  Creek  and  wait  our  chance 
to  get  out.  But  one  more  night  in  the  swamp 
would  kill  him,   I  think." 

"  He's  very  ill,  isn't  he  ?  "  Celia  asked. 

"He's  burning  up  with  fever.  It's  just 
from  exhaustion  and  starvation,  most  likely. 
It  would  only  take  two  or  three  days  to  put 
him  on  his  feet,  temporarily."  Then,  to  Mr. 
Odell,  "  We  must  find  some  place  here  in 
the  city  where  we  can  hide  him  for  as  long  as 
that." 

"  We'll  keep  him  here,  of  course,"  said 
Celia. 

<'  How's  your  place  ? "  demanded  Martin  of 
the  older  man. 

"  The  warehouse,"  he  answered.    "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Hold  on.  Didn't  you  say  last  night  you'd 
hired  a  night  watchman  ?  " 

"  There's  no  reason  why  he  can't  be  kept 
here,"  Celia  said  quickly,  without  waiting  for  his 
affirmative  nod.  "  Oh,  there  are  ordinary  reasons, 
of  course.  But  there  is  nothing  to  make  it  im- 
possible. There  are  just  ourselves  here.  The  ser- 
vant isn't  here  at  night.  And  they  won't  search 
the    house    for  him  unless  some    one    saw    him 


244  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

come  in.  Besides,  yoa  couldn't  take  him  through 
the  streets,  anywhere,  as  he  is  now." 

"  Your  mother  —  "  began  Martin,  doubtfully. 

"  Her  life  isn't  in  danger.  She  may  be  longer 
getting  w^ell,  that's  all." 

Hitherto,  all  of  them  —  she,  like  the  two  men 
—  had  spoken  in  a  manner  curiously  matter-of- 
fact  ;  a  little  more  rapidly  with  rather  more 
condensation,  it  is  true,  than  w^as  perfectly  natu- 
ral, but  in  no  other  way  showing  that  they 
realized  the  hideous  alternative  of  failure.  But 
the  silence  of  a  few  seconds  which  followed 
Celia's  last  words  was  too  much  for  her  nerves. 
"  Oh,  do  be  quick,  be  quick !  "  Her  voice  broke 
in  a  sob  that  had  a  hysterical  echo  of  a  laugh 
in  it. 

"  Mr.  Odell,"  said  Martin,  "  I'm  glad  you're 
willing  to  help  us.  We  shall  need  it.  I  think  I 
have  the  plan.  I  shall  be  taken  sick,  here,  now. 
In  the  morning  you'll  go  to  the  Caroline  and  tell 
them  so.  Tell  the  stew^ard  to  bring  me  my  medi- 
cine case."  Then  he  turned  to  Celia.  "  Is  there 
a  bed  I  can  put  him  into  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  it  ready,  "  she  said,  and  went  swiftly 
out  of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs. 

Mr.  Odell  seemed  a  little  uneasy.  "  Won't  it 
cause  comment  if  it  gets  generally  known  you're 
here  ? " 

"  All  the  better.     That's  just  what  w^ill  make 


THE   SPY  245 

it  possible  to  keep  him  here  —  and  to  get  him 
off,  too,  perhaps.  And  if  anybody  has  to  see 
me,  they  can,  for  a  day  or  two.  We  could 
chance  it,  I  think." 

"  Perhaps  you're  right.  But  here's  another 
thing.  Won't  they  insist,  Mr.  White  and  the 
others,  I  mean,  on  sending  a  doctor  to  see  you, 
if  they  know  you're  really  ill  ?  I  could  get 
medicines  —  I've  got  no  end  of  'em  at  the 
warehouse." 

«'  They  won't  insist,"  said  Martin.  "  They'll 
obey  orders.  And  I've  got  to  be  sick.  I've  got 
to  be  as  near  as  possible  exactly  as  sick  as  he 
is." 

« Yes  —  yes,  y.ou're  quite  right.  Can  I  help 
you  in  getting  him  to  bed  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can  do  it  alone.  You'd  better  go  back 
now.  If  he  was  seen  coming  here,  and  if  the 
guard  does  come  to  arrest  him  in  a  few  minutes 
now,  there's  no  good  in  your  being  here.  But 
you'll  come  again  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Whenever  you  want  me.     Good  night." 

"Good  night." 

An  instant  later  Celia  came  down  the  stairs. 
"  Everything  is  ready  for  him.  Shall  I  go  ahead 
with  the  candle  ?  "  The  moment  of  action,  the 
doing  of  something  she  had  been  explicitly  told 
to  do,  had  brought  her  under  control  again.  She 
spoke  as  steadily  as  ever. 


246  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

"  Good,"  said  Martin.  He  went  to  the  sofa, 
laid  his  hands  on  Winthrop's  uneasy  body,  and 
gently  began  to  raise  him.  He  roused  a  little 
out  of  his  feverish  sleep,  then  suddenly  again 
began  struggling  fiercely  to  get  free  from  the 
arms  that  held  him. 

<'  You're  all  right,  old  man.  Lie  still."  Some- 
how the  low  voice,  reassuring  but  peremptory, 
carried  something  of  its  meaning  to  the  sick 
man's  wits,  errant  though  they  were.  He  sank 
back  again  quietly  enough,  and  Martin,  gathering 
him  in  his  arms,  followed  Celia  up  the  creaking 
stairs. 

She  brought  him  everything  he  asked  for  and 
went  away,  leaving  him  to  get  Winthrop  to  bed, 
but  when  half  an  hour  later  he  opened  the  door, 
he  found  her  sitting  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

She  rose  and  came  softly  toward  the  door. 
"  I've  been  listening,"  she  whispered.  "  Do  you 
think  they'll  come  to-night  to  take  him  ?  " 

"We're  safe  so  far,"  he  answered,  also  in  a 
whisper.  "  If  any  one  had  seen  him  come  to  the 
house,  they'd  have  been  here  before  this  looking 
for  him." 

"  Martin,  you'll  tell  me  what  you  really  think, 
won't  you  ?  Is  there  any"  chance,  any  chance  at 
all  to  save  him  ?  " 

"  I  think  so  —  I  think  a  fairly  good  one.  I've 
a  sort  of  a  plan,  the  main  points  of  one,  that 


THE   SPY  247 

isn't  hopeless  by  any  means.  It  will  be  hard, 
it'll  demand  a  good  deal  of  all  of  us,  —  of  him,  and 
you,  and  your  mother.  If  we  all  do  our  parts 
right,  it  may  work.  But  it  won't  do  to  look  so 
far  ahead  as  that.  We've  got  to  leave  the  out- 
come of  it  to  —  to  the  One  that  decides  if  any 
of  our  plans  shall  work." 

"  I  know,"  she  answered,  "  and  I'll  try.  I'll 
do  exactly  what  you  tell  me  to.  What  shall 
I  tell  mother?" 

"  Has  she  heard  at  all  what's  gone  on  to-night  ?  " 

"  No.  Her  room's  downstairs,  but  at  the  end 
of  the  passage,  —  the  other  end  of  the  house  from 
the  living  room." 

"  You'd  better  tell  me  the  plan  of  the  house,  I 
think.     It  may  be  useful." 

She  made  it  as  clear  as  she  could  without 
a  diagram. 

"  Then  there's  only  this  one  room  upstairs  ?  " 
he  asked,  when  she  had  finished.  "  Where  does 
this  other  door  lead  ?  " 

"  It's  just  a  garret.  And  you  can  get  into  it 
through  the  closet  in  your  room,  too." 

"  That's  as  good  as  possible.  Do  you  store 
anything  in  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  our  trunks  and  things.     Why  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  what  you're  to  tell  your 
mother.  If  you  were  to  occupy  yourself  up  here 
for  a  day  or  two,  in  the  attic,  we  might  be  able 


248  TKAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

to  keep  her  in  the  dark  as  to  any  one  else's  being 
upstairs.  But  she  might  hear  something  you 
couldn't  explain.  No,  we'd  better  not  run  that 
risk.     Could  you  say  that  I've  been  sick  —  " 

"  She'd  insist  on  coming  to  take  care  of  you, 
if  she  was  strong  enough  to  climb  the  stairs.  I 
couldn't  keep  her  away." 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  tell  her  that  I'm  pre- 
tending to  be  sick,  —  that  people  think  I  am,  but 
I'm  not  at  all !  " 

"  But  she'll  want  to  know  why." 

"  Tell  her  it's  a  secret  of  mine.  Tell  her  that 
you  know,  and  that  Mr.  Odell  knows,  and  that 
you'll  tell  her,  if  she  wants  to  know.  I  think 
I'd  tell  her  all  that  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "I  think  that's  exactly  right. 
And  —  are  there  any  further  orders.  Captain  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  except  to  sleep  as  hard  as  you  can 
till  morning.  Unless  —  "  He  paused  a  little  awk- 
wardly. She  waitedj  and  after  a  little  he  went 
on  with  an  obvious  effort :  "  He's  asleep,  but 
perhaps  you'd  like  to  go  in,  for  a  minute  or  two, 
just  to  see  that  he's  quite  comfortable  —  " 

He  could  not  see  her  face  clearly,  but  had  an 
idea  that  she  looked  at  him  curiously  before  she 
answered. 

"  I  don't  think  I'll  go  in  to-night,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  going  to  obey  orders  and  go  to  sleep.  You 
told  me  once  not  to  be  afraid.     Do  you  remem- 


THE   SPY  249 

ber  ?  On  the  Southern  Cross  when  the  storm  was 
coming  ?     But  you  won't  have  to  tell  me  again." 

His  eyes  followed  her  down  the  stairs,  then  he 
went  softly  back  into  the  sick-room,  and  draw- 
ing the  easy-chair  close  beside  the  bed,  settled 
down  for  the  long  night  watch. 

But  it  did  not  seem  long  to  him.  Over  and 
over  again  he  studied  his  plan,  working  out  its 
details,  testing  it  with  every  exigency  he  could 
think  of.  It  was  horribly  insecure,  and  once  or 
twice  in  the  night  he  abandoned  it  altogether 
in  the  search  for  another  where  the  chances  of 
failure  w^ould  not  be  so  many ;  but  there  seemed 
to  be  no  other,  and  he  returned  to  it.  He  reck- 
oned with  all  the  persons  who,  consciously  or  not, 
must  play  a  part  in  it,  —  the  endurance  of  this 
one,  the  courage  of  that,  the  loyalty  of  another. 
Well,  humanly  speaking,  perhaps  there  was  an 
even  chance,  or  a  little  less,  that  they  might 
succeed. 

A  little  after  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the 
hour  when  the  barometer  is  lowest,  when  all  the 
world  turns  restlessly  in  its  sleep,  when  those 
holding  death  at  arm's  end  are  of  tenest  overcome, 
Winthrop  began  to  stir  more  uneasily,  and  his 
low,  feverish  muttering  began  to  take  the  form 
of  intelligible  words.  They  were  only  words ; 
there  was  nothing  coherent  about  them,  but 
there  was  a    suggestion  of  a  meaning  —  if  one 


250  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

could  but  find  it  — which  drew  Martin's  thoughts 
away  from  the  plan,  that  held  his  eyes  eagerly 
on  the  sick  man's  face,  that  sometimes  held  his 
breath  suspended  from  one  word  to  another. 
There  was  but  a  shred  or  two  in  all  the  tangle, 
but  in  these  he  seemed  to  find  a  hope,  an  old 
hope  of  his,  long  held  and  only  just  relinquished. 

The  sick  man  soon  became  quiet  again,  but 
Martin's  thoughts  did  not  go  back  to  the  plan. 
He  let  himself  forget  it,  forget  the  perils  the 
next  few  days  must  bring  them  all,  as  he  sat 
there  till  the  dawn  came  in  at  the  windows 
nursing  that  just  dead  hope  of  his  back  to 
life. 

Before  full  day,  as  he  sat  watching  it  break,  a 
movement  in  the  bed  behind  him  made  him 
turn  quickly  ;  it  was  feeble,  but  it  had  purpose 
in  it. 

"Well,  how  do  you  feel  after  your  night's 
sleep  ?  "  he  asked. 

«  Martin  —  what  —  where  am  I  ?  " 

"Never  mind  about  that.  You're  all  right. 
Do  you  want  a  drink  and  a  bite  to  eat  ?  " 

He  held  him  up  in  bed  and  let  him  drink  half 
a  glass  of  water ;  then,  with  more  success  than 
his  inexperience  would  have  led  one  to  expect, 
he  fed  him  with  that  most  unmanageable  of 
viands  —  a  raw  egg. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  come  to  be  here,"  said 


THE   SPY  251 

the  sick  man,  after  it  was  over.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand it  at  all." 

"  How  should  you  when  you  don't  know  where 
you  are  ?  " 

The  answer  seemed  to  satisfy  him  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  his  memory  taking  a  stronger  hold 
than  before,  he  made  an  effort  to  rouse  himself. 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  "  there  is  something  I  must 
tell  you.  —  I  must  talk  to  you.  It's  what  I 
went  to  the  Caroline  for." 

Whatever  the  next  words  were  to  be,  however 
much  they  might  mean  to  Martin,  they  must  not 
be  said  now.  "There's  no  hurry  about  it.  I'm 
not  going  away.  You're  not  to  talk  or  think  for 
another  twenty-four  hours.  After  that  as  much 
as  you  like.  But  for  twenty-four  hours,  remem- 
ber, not  a  word  to  me  or  to  any  one  else." 

He  tried  to  protest,  but  already  his  exertion 
had  wearied  him,  and  before  many  minutes  he 
was  again  asleep. 

While  it  was  still  early,  before  he  expected 
any  sound  whatever  in  the  house,  he  heard  Celia 
coming  up  the  stairs.  In  the  passage  he  met  her, 
bright-eyed,  triumphant. 

"  I've  told  mother,"  she  said,  "  and  mother 
says  she's  willing  to  trust  you  with  as  many 
secrets  as  you  please.  How's  Winthrop  ?  Did 
he  have  a  good  night  ?  " 

He  nodded.     "As  good  as  possible." 


252  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

"  So  everything's  gone  exactly  right  so  far. 
And  now  I'm  going  to  get  your  breakfast  before 
Jennie  comes.     She's  the  cook,  you  know." 

"  I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat  it,  but  I  guess 
we'd  better  wait  for  her.  Let  her  get  it  ready 
and  bring  it  up  herself." 

"  Let  her  see  him  ?  " 

"But  not  me.  I'll  be  in  the  garret."  Her 
look  spoke  the  utmost  surprise,  so  he  explained. 
"  She's  probably  curious.  If  she  suspects  there's 
a  mystery  she'll  do  all  she  can  to  make  it  out. 
She's  likely  to  be  questioned  if  it's  true  that  I'm 
here.  If  she  has  brought  my  meals  up  three 
times  a  day,  and  has  seen  Winthrop  really  sick, 
she'll  answer  questions  perfectly  naturally." 

"  But  she's  probably  seen  you  ;  the  darkies 
are  so  interested  in  the  blockade-runners.  Are 
you  going  to  trust  the  resemblance  ?  It  seems 
dreadful,"  she  went  on,  at  his  affirmative  nod; 
"  you  don't  look  alike,  not  in  the  least." 

"Didn't  we  when  you  didn't  know  us  so  well? 
We  do  to  strangers,  as  a  rule." 

"He  looks  a  little  like  you,  perhaps,"  she 
admitted,  "  but  you  don't  look  a  bit  like  him." 

"  It  has  worked  once,"  he  said  thoughtfully, 
very  gravely.  "People  mistook  him  for  me 
then.  They'll  expect  me  to  look  different  with- 
out my  beard,  and  after  a  touch  of  fever  —  " 

«  They  ! "    She  looked  at  him,  wide-eyed.     "  Is 


THE   SPY  253 

that  your  plan  to  get  him  off  !  Martin  —  won't 
they  know  him  the  moment  he  steps  out  of  the 
door  ?  " 

"  It's  our  only  chance.  He  won't  be  in  shape 
to  take  to  the  swamps  for  wrecks.  We  can't 
keep  this  up  for  more  than  two  or  three  days. 
But  it  isn't  desperate.  And  we'll  have  to  believe 
in  it  ourselves.  A  good  deal  will  depend  on  how 
we  do  our  part  in  it." 

For  a  moment  the  idea  terrified  her;  the 
thought  that  during  the  very  moments  when 
his  life  hung  in  the  balance  they  must  be  steady 
of  nerve,  nonchalant,  that  by  a  glance  or  a  start 
they  themselves  might  betray  him,  was  almost 
unendurable.  Her  lips  were  trembling  when  she 
asked :  — 

"Martin,  can  we  do  it?  Do  you  think  we 
can  do  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  When  the  time  comes  you'll 
be  able  to  do  it." 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  "Well,"  she  said, 
"  I  can  at  least  begin  by  being  brave  with  the 
cook.     I'll  tell  her  when  she  comes." 

It  was  a  hard  test,  and  it  needed  all  her  cour- 
age to  carry  it  through.  Jennie  was  an  old  ser- 
vant in  the  family,  and  she  had  her  privileges,  the 
chief  of  which  was  that  of  unlimited  comment. 
Celia  resisted  the  impulse  to  check  her,  resisted 
it   further   than  she  would   have  done  had  she 


254  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

not  had  a  hard  part  to  play ;  but  it  grew  harder 
every  moment,  and  when  at  last  the  woman 
remarked  that  Captain  Carver  looked  as  if  he'd 
never  had  a  sick  day  all  his  life,  she  felt  her  heart 
sink,  and  fomid  herself  a  trifle  giddy.  It  seemed 
like  a  deliberate  betrayal.  With  a  very  little 
less  self-control,  with  a  grain  less  faith  in  Mar- 
tin, she  would  have  taken  the  tray  from  the 
woman's  hands  and  carried  it  up  herself. 

But  the  experiment  was  worth  all  it  cost  her, 
for  the  sight  of  the  servant's  face  as  she  came 
down  the  stairs  five  minutes  later  was  convinc- 
ing. "  He's  mighty  sick,  that's  a  fact,"  was  her 
comment.  "  But  I  thought  he  was  looking  kind 
of  peaked  last  time  I  saw  him." 

It  was  not  the  severest  test  the  resemblance 
must  be  put  to,  but,  as  far  as  it  went,  it  was 
encouraging. 

A  little  later  in  the  morning,  after  Mr.  Odell 
had  made  his  visit,  Celia  mounted  the  stairs, 
with  a  pair  of  blankets  over  her  arm.  She 
opened  the  right-hand  door  into  the  little  garret, 
and  it  was  here  that  Martin  found  her. 

"  How  did  you  know  it  wasn't  Jennie  ?  "  she 
asked  severely  as  he  tiptoed  into  the  room.  He 
smiled,  and  with  that  for  answer  she  went  on. 
"  Winthrop's  asleep,  isn't  he?  I'm  going  to 
make  some  sort  of  a  place  for  you  to  sleep  your- 
self.    You  must  have  nearly  frozen  last  night." 


THE   SPY  255 

Besides  the  blankets  she  contrived  to  get  to- 
gether from  here  and  there  a  large  enough  aggre- 
gate of  soft  things  to  make  a  very  tolerable  bed. 
Together  they  disposed  them  with  great  preten- 
sion on  her  part  to  a  highly  scientific  arrange- 
ment, in  a  corner  near  the  closet  door  which 
communicated  with  the  room  where  Winthrop 
lay  asleep. 

The  necessity  for  almost  perfect  silence,  the 
talk  in  whispers,  the  unusual  surroundings  and 
occupation,  made  it  all  seem  a  sort  of  play. 
"  It's  like  playing  house,"  she  said.  "  I  feel 
about  ten  years  old,  don't  you  ?  And  isn't  it 
fun  ?  " 

He  was  used  to  sudden  changes  in  her,  but 
now  the  sudden  transformation  in  her  face  from 
glee  to  something  little  short  of  horror  startled 
him. 

"  Did  you  hear  something  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No — no.  I  just  remembered  what  it  all 
means.  I'd  forgotten.  Oh,  how  could  I  forget, 
even  for  a  minute  ! " 

u  I'ln  glad  you  could.  The  people  who  can 
forget  when  there's  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
remembering  can  go  just  so  much  farther  and 
can  stand  just  so  much  more  than  those  who 
can't.  You'll  do  your  part  all  the  better  when 
the  time  comes." 

"Perhaps  so,"  she  said.     But  she  was  serious 


256  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

now.  The  mood  of  childhood  was  gone.  "  Mar- 
tin," she  said,  seating  herself  on  a  box  and 
motioning  him  to  another  near  by,  "mother 
and  I  have  decided  to  go  away.  We  decided 
this  morning.  You  think  it's  right,  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  I  hoped  you  would ;  I've  thought  about  it 
a  good  deal.  Do  you  think  you  could  get  ready 
to  go  soon  ?     On  the  Caroline  on  Monday  ?  " 

"Why,  Monday's  only  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. Oh,  do  you  mean  for  us  to  go  when 
you  take  him  ?  Will  it  help  your  plan  ?  Yes, 
we  can  go,  of  course." 

"  That's  the  last  difficulty,"  he  said,  with  evi- 
dent relief,  "  the  last  that  we're  concerned  with, 
I  mean.     Would  you  like  to  hear  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Oh,  please ! "  she  said.  "  I  hoped  you'd 
tell  me." 

It  was  essentially  what  he  had  thought  out 
the  night  before.  With  Mr.  Odell's  help  he  had 
filled  in  some  details,  and  now  he  knew  he 
could  count  on  Celia  and  her  mother  to  go 
with  them  it  was  complete.  He  began  at  the 
beginning. 

"  The  Carolme  was  to  have  sailed  Sunday,  — 
to-morrow,  —  but  Mr.  Odell  has  told  them  to  wait 
over  one  day  more  on  account  of  my  being  sick. 
That  gives  Winthrop  another  day  to  get  better, 
and  it  means  that  the  Caroline  will  have  to  wait 


THE   SPY  257 

nearly  an  hour  later  at  Sinithville  for  the  moon 
to  set.  That  takes  it  till  after  midnight.  You 
know  we  usually  drop  down  the  river  in  the 
afternoon,  and  wait  for  dai*k  off  Smithville. 

"  Mr.  White  is  to  command  this  trip  —  or  he 
expects  to  —  and  we'll  set  half-past  three  as  the 
hour  for  leaving  here,  but  you'll  keep  him  wait- 
ing. You  won't  leave  the  house  here  till  half- 
past  four  or  five.  There'll  be  less  light  then, 
and  you'll  be  sure  they'll  be  ready  to  turn  the 
w^heels  the  minute  you  get  aboard.  Mr.  Odell 
will  hire  a  closed  hack  and  when  the  time 
comes,  you  and  your  mother  and  he  and  Win- 
throp  will  walk  out  to  it  and  drive  to  the  Caro- 
line, I  don't  think  there'll  be  the  least  danger 
as  you  go  through  the  streets.  The  risk  will 
be  when  you  get  to  the  Caroline^ 

"  Yes,"  she  said  unsteadily,  "  that  will  be 
dreadful." 

"  We've  a  good  deal  in  our  favor,  though. 
None  of  them  have  seen  him  before,  not  his  face 
at  least.  They'll  be  expecting  me,  and  won't 
have  any  idea  for  a  minute  of  seeing  any  one 
else.  He'll  be  in  my  clothes,  he'll  have  on  my 
overcoat  with  the  collar  turned  up,  and  it's  wide 
enough  to  pretty  well  hide  his  face.  Mr.  Odell 
will  take  his  arm  and  walk  him  straight  to  my 
cabin.  It  won't  take  three  minutes  all  together 
from  the  time  you  get  out  of  the  hack." 


258  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"  Suppose  they  try  to  make  him  talk ;  sup- 
pose somebody   asks  him  a   question." 

"  They'll  be  busy,  and  in  a  hurry  —  the  offi- 
cers will  —  to  get  past  Reeves'  Point  by  what's 
left  of  the  daylight.  The  steward's  the  man  to 
look  out  for.  He'll  probably  come  up  to  help, 
and  if  he  does,  you'll  have  to  find  something  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment  to  divert  him.  It's 
only  what  he  might  do  in  a  moment  of  surprise 
that  would  be  dangerous.  He  might  exclaim 
and  attract  some  one  else's  attention.  If  worst , 
should  come  to  worst,  I  think  vou  could  throw 
yourself,  or  me  rather,  on  his  mercy.  He's  per- 
fectly loyal." 

His  use  of  the  word  struck  her  oddly.  "  Loy- 
alty "  in  the  South  meant  loyalty  to  the 
Cause.  She  saw  in  a  moment  that  he  meant 
by  it  simply  personally  devoted  to  his  com- 
mander. That  gave  her  something  to  think 
about  afterward,  but  now  her  attention  came 
quickly  back  to  the  unfinished  story.  Martin  had 
stopped  as  though  there  were  nothing  more  to  tell. 

"  What  next  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  after  that  it's  simple.  Mr.  Odell  stays 
in  my  state-room  with  Winthrop,  and  sees  that 
nobody  else  gets  in.  He's  going  through  to 
Nassau  with  you.  The  Caroline  will  drop  down 
to  Smithville,  wait  for  the  moon  to  set,  and 
then  run  the  blockade." 


THE   SPY  259 

"  But  you  !  "  she  demanded.  "  Martin,  —  "  in 
quick  alarm,  —  "  what  will  you  do  ?  They'll 
capture  you  instead." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it.  I'm  going  to  escape. 
I  shall  wait  for  dark  and  then  slip  oE.  There'll 
be  a  boat  hidden,  two  boats  in  fact,  in  different 
places  so  that  I  can  have  my  choice.  With 
luck,  I'll  get  down  to  Smithville  before  you 
start  out.  In  that  case,  I'll  get  aboard  and  go 
out  with  you." 

"  You  mustn't  let  them  go  without  you.  We 
won't  go  till  you're  safe  on  board." 

"  It  won't  do  to  wait,"  he  said,  with  gentle 
finality.  "  If  I'm  not  there,  it's  all  the  more 
reason  to  hurry  away.  But  I  can  take  care  of 
myself.  And  even  if  they  do  catch  me,  they'll 
soon  find  they  have  the  wrong  man.  They 
wouldn't  let  me  off  on  that  account  of  course, 
but  they  wouldn't  treat  me  —  as  they'd  treat 
him." 

"  Don't,"  she  shuddered.  "  But  are  you  sure 
they  wouldn't,  Martin  ?     Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,"  he  said. 

Presently,  with  a  manifest  exercise  of  her 
self-command,  she  changed  the  direction  of  this 
talk.  "You  ought  to  be  asleep,"  she  said. 
"  You  must  save  up,  too.  If  you'll  go  to  sleep 
now,  I'll  watch,  and  if  anything  happens  will 
wake  you." 


260  TRAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 

"  That  won't  be  necessary.  I  told  him  the 
last  time  he  was  awake  that  if  he  didn't  see  me 
I'd  be  in  the  next  room,  and  that  he  wasn't  to 
call  out." 

"  Is  he  —  Does  he  understand  ?  Have  you 
talked  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  wanted  to  talk,"  said  Martin,  very  slowly. 
"  He  said  there  was  something  he  must  tell  me. 
But  I  wouldn't  let  him,  of  course.  I  said  he 
must  wait  till  to-morrow." 

The  note  of  eagerness  —  of  more  than  that, 
of  fear,  almost  —  in  her  voice  as  she  had  asked 
the  question  had  caught  his  ear  and  drawn  his 
eyes  to  her  face  ;  but,  bidden  by  an  instinct  which 
told  him  that  she  would  not  have  him  read  what 
was  written  there,  he  lowered  them  again,  in- 
stantly. He  did  not  look  at  her  as  he  made  his 
answer,  nor  during  the  moment  of  silence  that 
followed  it,  nor  she  at  him,  but  both  knew  that 
what  they  had  put  off  last  evening  for  their 
stolen  hour  had  become  peremptory. 

"Perhaps  this  isn't  the  time  to  give  explana- 
tions, nor  to  ask  for  them,"  he  said  at  last,  "  but, 
Celia  —  I  told  you  the  other  day  that  I  thought 
I  understood.  It  seemed  that  there  was  only 
one  way  to  understand  it.  He  had  come  into 
the  city  to  see  you,  and  your  brother  had  helped 
him,  and  —  I  took  it  just  as  the  commandant 
did.     And  that  seemed  to  help  me  to  understand 


THE   SPY  261 

what  —  what  had  been  between  us.  I  thought 
you  must  have  looked  at  things  as  I  knew  Win- 
throp  did,  that  it  seemed  to  you  that  I  had  been 
disloyal  to  him,  that  I'd  sided  with  father  against 
him,  and  perhaps  for  my  own  advantage.  And 
I  wanted  to  make  you  see  that  I  hadn't.  I 
thought  I  could.  But  I'm  not  sure  now  that 
I  wasn't  wrong  altogether.  Winthrop  hasn't 
talked  to  me,  but  in  his  dreams  last  night  he 
talked,  and  I  listened  to  what  he  said.  Celia, 
are  you  willing  to  tell  me  ?     Are  you  and  he — " 

He  could  not  say  the  word,  but  she  understood 
without  it,  and  answered,  not  very  steadily, 
"  No,  we're  not  engaged  to  each  other.  And  we 
won't  be,  ever.     He  —  he  understands." 

It  was  a  moment  before  he  asked  the  next 
question. 

"  And  I  am  wrong  about  the  other,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  haven't  found  the  reason.  It  means 
—  more  than  anything  else  to  me  to  find  it. 
Won't  I  ever  know,  Celia  ?     Can't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

He  looked  up  at  her  as  he  asked  the  question, 
and  saw  in  her  face  what  he  had  seen  there 
months  ago  when  she  had  said  good-by  to  him, 
that  cold,  gray  morning  aboard  the  Caroline^  her 
eyes  bright  with  tears,  telling  him  so  much  and 
not  ashamed  to  tell,  but  still  denying. 

"Not   to-day,"  she    pleaded;  "not   any  more 


262  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

to-daj.  Can't  it  be  like  last  night,  like  this 
morning,  for  a  little  longer  ?  We  haven't  any 
right  to  —  ourselves,  now.  And  maybe  some 
day  everything  will  come  right." 

Though  they  agreed  to  try  it,  it  seemed  almost 
beyond  possibility  that  they  could  go  back  to 
the  relation  of  yesterday ;  and  both  were  sur- 
prised to  find  it  easy,  to  find  themselves  back 
on  the  same  intimate  yet  entirely  practical  terms 
as  before,  and  the  little  interlude  not  forgotten, 
but  laid  away  until  they  should  have  a  "  right  to 
themselves"  again. 

The  next  forty-eight  hours  brought  no  great 
events,  but  a  multitude  of  small  aifairs.  Martin's 
share  of  them  was  the  slightest,  for,  beyond  tak- 
ing care  of  Winthrop,  there  was  nothing  he  could 
venture  to  do ;  but  Celia,  besides  the  attention 
her  mother  needed,  had  to  make  all  the  prepara- 
tions for  their  unexpected  departure.  She  had 
Jennie  to  help  her,  indeed,  but  Jennie  was  not 
too  effective  at  best,  and  in  her  bewilderment 
and  grief  over  their  going  away  still  less  so. 

As  for  Mr.  Odell,  he  was  running  back  and 
forth  on  one  errand  or  another  all  the  while.  It 
is  not  likely  that  he  was  as  much  sm'prised  to 
find  himself  in  this  role  as  they  were.  Whether 
he  reasoned  that  the  only  thing  left  for  him  to 
do,  the  only  chance  for  saving  the  "business," 
was  to  get  them  all  off  safely,  or  whether  he 


THE   SPY  263 

shared  their  feelings  more  nearly,  it  came  to  pre- 
cisely the  same  thing.  He  was  eager,  resource- 
ful, invaluable. 

By  Sunday  morning,  it  was  evident,  as  it  had 
not  been  before,  that  Winthrop  would  be  ready, 
after  another  day's  recruiting,  to  make  the  at- 
tempt. He  waked  after  a  normal  night's  sleep, 
stretched  and  sat  up  in  bed,  and  demanded  to 
be  told  where  he  was  and  how  he  came  to  be 
there.  It  was  rather  a  severe  test  of  his  newly 
recovered  strength  to  be  told  that  he  was  lying, 
as  it  were,  in  the  open  hand  of  Death,  and  that 
in  a  little  more  than  twenty-four  hours  he  must 
make  an  attempt  to  walk  out  between  the  fin- 
gers. He  did  not,  of  course,  guess  the  worst  of 
it,  the  general  knowledge  through  the  town  of 
the  striking  resemblance  the  spy  had  borne 
to  Captain  Carver,  nor  the  suspicion,  partly 
allayed,  but  smouldering  and  ready  to  flare  up 
at  a  breath,  against  the  Townleys ;  and  Martin 
took  care  that  he  should  not  guess.  He  entered 
into  the  plan  with  all  his  old-time  verve  and  gay 
courage,  and  they  all  felt  that  if  these  qualities 
could  carry  him  through,  he  would  not  fail  in 
his  part. 

But  if  they  could  reckon  him  every  hour  less 
an  invalid  and  more  a  colaborer,  with  Mrs. 
Townley,  contrary  to  their  expectations,  the 
case  was  reversed.      Physically  she  seemed  well 


264  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

enough.  She  had  not  worried,  either,  over 
"Martin's  mystery,"  had  shown  no  curiosity  about 
it,  had  seemed  often  to  forget  completely  that 
he  was  in  the  house.  She  had  assented  readily 
enough  to  the  plan  for  going  away,  had  seemed 
neither  surprised  nor  reluctant  when  told  how 
soon  it  was  to  be.  But  that  this  apparent  calm- 
ness came  from  her  failure  to  comprehend  the 
smallest  part  of  the  situation,  rather  than  from  a 
deliberate  acceptance  of  it,  was  made  evident  by 
her  moments  of  distress  and  anxiety  over  the 
smallest  and  most  trivial  matters  of  the  house- 
hold routine.  They  had  put  off,  almost  from 
hour  to  hour,  telling  her  that  their  escort  to  the 
Caroline  would  be  Winthrop  instead  of  Martin, 
and  at  last  they  definitely  decided  to  leave  it  until 
the  very  last  moment,  hoping  that  the  danger 
might  be  over  before  she  could  fairly  realize  how 
great  it  had  been.  All  together,  by  tea-time,  Sun- 
day, her  condition  seemed  to  be  the  thing  most 
likely  to  set  at  naught  their  calculations. 

Even  the  news  Mr.  Odell  brought  with  him  in 
the  evening,  important  though  it  was,  hardly 
held  their  minds  for  more  than  the  few  minutes 
which  he  sat  on  Martin's  bed  in  the  garret  —  for 
Winthrop  was  asleep  —  and  told  them  what  he 
knew  of  it. 

"  I've  sniffed  something  in  the  wind  for  several 
days,"  he    said,  "  some    military  expedition    or 


THE  SPY  265 

other.  It's  all  been  kept  very  quiet.  All  I 
know  now  is  that  it's  on  for  to-morrow  night. 
I  suspect  it's  to  be  an  affair  of  boats.  They're 
impressing  all  the  boats  they  can  find,  at  any 
rate.  They  nearly  got  the  two  I've  hidden  for 
you  to  get  off  in.  But  as  they  didn't,  I  don't 
see  that  they'll    trouble  us." 

"  No,  it's  good  news  so  far  as  it  goes,"  said 
Martin.  "  The  more  they  have  to  think  about 
to-morrow,  the  less  they're  likely  to  think  about 
us." 

"  It  may  complicate  things  for  you  a  bit, 
that's  all.  You  may  find  more  company  than 
you  want  on  the  river." 

"  No,"  said  Martin,  easily.  "  I  don't  think 
they'll  trouble  me  a  bit." 

"  And  there's  no  ^Dart  of  the  plan  you  want 
changed  ?  This  is  our  last  chance  to  talk  over 
anything  in  advance.  I  shan't  come  to  the 
house  till  it's  time  to  start,  till  about  four  o'clock." 

"  No,  there's  nothing  to  change.  The  only 
thing  now  is  for  everybody  to  get  a  good  night's 
sleep." 

They  shook  hands  all  around,  for  Celia  had 
been  a  silent  party  to  the  colloquy,  and  so  ended 
the  last  "  council." 

The  intolerable  part  of  that  memorable  Mon- 
day, the  part  that  wore  Winthrop  into  a  fever 


266  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

again,  that  even  told  severely  upon  Martin's  en- 
durance, was  between  ten  o'clock  that  morning, 
when  they  realized  that  there  was  nothing  to 
do  now  but  wait,  and  half-past  three  in  the 
afternoon. 

At  the  latter  hour,  Winthrop,  who  for  the  last 
hour  had  been  stretched  out  beside  Martin 
on  the  bed,  holding  himself  still  and  pretending 
to  rest,  sat  up  wdth  a  jerk. 

<'I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,"  he  said.  "Are 
you  asleep  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  think  I'll  pack  that  little  bag  of  yours." 

« It's  done  already." 

"  Confound  it!  Why  couldn't  you  leave  some- 
thing for  me  to  amuse  myself  with  ?  What's 
Celia  doing,  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  She's  pretending  to  pack,  too,  I  think.  She 
was  going  to  get  her  mother  to  help  her,  to  keep 
her  entertained.  I  wonder  if  she's  told  her 
yet." 

"  She'll  have  to  pretty  soon.  Mr.  Odell  will 
be  here  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Not  for  half  an  hour  yet." 

He  had  not  more  than  got  the  words  out 
before  they  heard  footsteps  and  a  knock  at  the 
front   door. 

«  That's  not  he,"  said  Martin,  « and  it's  more 
than  one.     It's  two  women." 


THE   SPY  267 

The  sound  of  their  voices,  a  moment  later, 
confirmed  his  guess,  but  who  the  two  could  be 
was  a  puzzle.  They  were  still  there  when  Mr. 
Odell  came,  half  an  hour  later,  and  then  they 
learned  that  the  callers  were  Mrs.  Sherwin  and 
Dolly,  who  had  come  to  say  good-by. 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  good  thing,  too,"  Mr.  Odell 
added.  "  It  ought  to  stiffen  Mrs.  Townley  up  a 
bit.  But  I  wish  they'd  go  now.  I've  got  some 
more  news  for  you.  Captain  Dearborn  and  that 
sailor  of  his  broke  jail  last  night,  and  apparently 
have  got  off.  There's  no  end  of  a  row  about  it 
all  over  town  and  down  the  river.  I  suppose 
they're  sure  to  be  taken,  but  I  hope  not.  It 
won't  make  it  any  easier  for  you,  though  "  (this 
to  Martin^  —  "  the  hullabaloo  after  them." 

There  was  another  half  an  hour's  wait  before 
they  heard  the  last  farewell  and  the  click  of  the 
door  as  it  shut  behind  the  visitors. 

Winthrop  sprang  up,  and  began  putting  on 
Martin's  ulster. 

"  Give  them  five  minutes  more,"  said  Martin. 
"  She  may  not  have  told  her  mother  yet." 

Mr.  Odell  took  out  his  watch,  and  told  off 
the  half  minutes  as  they  went  by.  And  at  last 
he  put  it  back  in  his  pocket  and  rose.  "  Well, 
my  lad,"  he  said,  <'  it's  time  we  were  off." 

There  fell  then  a  little  moment  of  silence, 
before  the  brothers  parted.     Whether  the  part- 


268  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

mg  was  to  be  for  hours,  for  years,  forever,  they 
could  not  know.     They  gripped  hands  tight. 

<'  I  won't  forget  the  stoop,*'  Winthrop  said, 
"nor  that  I  have  brown  eyes.  God  bless  you, 
old  man !     Good-by." 

Martin  heard  them  down  the  stairs.  Then 
through  the  closet  he  stepped  into  his  garret  and 
lay  down  on  his  bed.  He  had  not  realized  that 
he  was  not  to  have  another  word  with  Celia. 
It  was  safest  so,  no  doubt,  and  he  stiffened  him- 
self against  the  feeling  of  despondency  that  came 
over  him. 

And  then  he  heard  her  step  on  the  stairs. 

"  I've  only  a  minute,"  she  whispered  as  she 
closed  the  garret  door  behind  her.  "  I  mustn't 
leave  mother." 

«  You  told  her  ?  " 

"She  didn't  seem  frightened  —  but,  Martin, 
she  didn't  seem  to  understand.  Do  you  think 
she'll  break  down  before  it's  over  ?  " 

"  It's  nearly  over  now.  You'll  be  safe  in  fif- 
teen minutes." 

"  But  you  !  Martin,  you  mustn't  let  them  take 
you.  Did  you  know  about  Captain  Dearborn  ? 
You'll —     Good-by,  Martin." 

He  stood  bending  a  little,  his  hands  locked 
together  before  him. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said.      "  If  I  don't  —  " 

The  locked  hands  came  apart,  and  he  stretched 


THE   SPY  269 

his  arms  out  towards  her.     "  Celia,  if    I    don't 
come  —  " 

With  a  little  gasp  she  sprang  between  them, 
and  with  her  own  drew  herself  close,  closer  to 
him.  "Good-by,"  she  said  again,  and,  opening 
the  door,  went  swiftly  down  the  stairs.  He 
locked  it  after  her,  and  the  other  as  well,  and 
then  lay  down  again.  He  heard  the  front  door 
open,  and  then,  after  what  seemed  a  long  time, 
the  carriage  drove  off. 


PAET   V 

THE  AWAKENING 


CHAPTER  XIV 

With  cheeks  still  burning  after  that  swift 
embrace,  Celia  entered  the  room  below.  Her 
heart  was  beating  fast,  but  very  steadily,  and 
she  was  aware  somehow  of  an  unusual  keenness 
in  all  her  faculties,  of  a  more  perfect  self-com- 
mand, of  a  complete  self-confidence.  With  a 
glance  about  the  room  she  noted  her  mother 
talking  cheerfully  —  ominously  cheerfully  —  to 
Winthrop,  who  was  sitting  beside  her  on  the 
sofa ;  Jennie  in  a  corner  between  two  large  port- 
manteaux which  she  was  to  take  out  to  the 
carriage,  ready  to  burst  into  tears  when  the 
moment  of  departure  should  actually  have  ar- 
rived ;  Mr.  Odell  at  the  door,  his  hand  already, 
on  the  latch,  making  manifest  his  impatience  to 
be  gone. 

"  I'm  sorry  I've  kept  you  waiting,"  she  said, 
with  an  apologetic  little  smile,  "but  I'm  quite 
ready  now." 

He  smiled,  too,  but  nothing  but  his  lips  had 
any  part  in  it.  "  You  ready.  Captain  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Quite,"  Winthrop  answered,  "  and  it's  high 
time  we  were  off,  too." 

T  273 


274  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

Mr.  Odell  pulled  open  the  door ;  Jennie  with  a 
loud  sniff  lifted  the  two  heavy  travelling  bags, 
but  stood  still,  waiting  for  the  others  to  pass ; 
and  Winthrop  sprang  up  to  assist  Mrs.  Town- 
ley  to  rise. 

"  Don't  forget  that  you're  an  invalid,  Captain 
Carver,"  said  Celia,  crossing  over  to  them. 
"  Come,  mother."  She  led  her  across  to  the 
open  door,  and  Winthrop,  profiting  by  the  re- 
minder, sank  back  again  on  the  sofa. 

The  carriage  had  been  waiting  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  or  more,  and  without  the  special  interest 
and  curiosity  which  attached  to  the  house  be- 
fore which  it  waited,  it  would  have  drawn 
together,  no  doubt,  a  little  knot  of  the  idly  in- 
quisitive to  watch  the  departure.  As  it  was, 
when  the  door  opened  there  were,  perhaps,  a 
dozen  persons  of  all  ages  and  all  conditions  but 
the  best,  who,  more  or  less  frankly,  were  watch- 
ing to  see  who  would  come  out  of  it. 

Though  the  situation  was  just  as  she  had 
foreseen  it,  Celia  found  it  harder  to  face 
than  she  had  expected  it  would  be,  harder  to 
dismiss  from  her  mind  the  possibility  that  they 
would  know  him  the  moment  he  stepped  out- 
side the  door,  or  to  keep  from  guessing  who 
among  the  little  group  out  there  would  be  first 
to  give  the  alarm.  One  of  them  was  a  soldier  ; 
perhaps  it  was   by   the    commandant's    express 


THE   AWAKENING  275 

orders  that  he  was  keeping  watch.  All  that 
went  through  her  thoughts  simultaneously  in 
a  single  flash,  and  as  quickly  it  was  gone  again, 
but  she  held  her  mother's  arm  more  firmly  than 
before  as  they  took  the  next  step. 

If  she  had  not  done  so,  Mrs.  Townley  would 
have  fallen,  for  upon  her  the  effect  of  the  sight 
was  unexpected  even  to  them,  and  most  alarm- 
ing. She  went  perfectly  white,  faltered,  and 
clutched  aimlessly  for  support. 

"  Celia,"  she  cried,  and  but  that  no  voice  came 
with  the  words,  only  an  agonized  whisper,  they 
must  have  reached  the  ears  of  those  who  were 
hanging  over  the  low  fence,  "  Celia,  they'll  see 
him  !     They'll  know  him  !  " 

"  Jennie,  go  ahead  with  the  bags,  please,"  the 
girl  said  steadily.  They  stepped  back  a  pace  to 
give  her  room  to  get  by.  "  Mother,"  Celia  con- 
tinued, "all  we  have  to  do  is  exactly  what 
Martin  told  us  to  do.  He  wants  us  to  go  out 
to  the  carriage.  Mr.  Odell,  will  you  help 
us?" 

Leaning  heavily  on  the  two  arms  which  now 
held  her,  Mrs.  Townley  allowed  herself  to  be 
led  out  to  the  carriage.  There  was  no  demon- 
stration against  them  whatever,  save  in  a  few 
unfriendly  comments,  and  these,  as  far  as  she 
was  concerned,  seemed  to  fall  on  deaf  ears. 
As  soon  as  she  was  seated  Mr.  Odell  went  back 


276  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

for  Winthrop.  Jennie,  meanwhile,  had  stowed 
the  two  portmanteaux  on  the  box  beside  the 
driver,  and  was  now  standing  ankle  deep  in  the 
mud  of  the  unpaved  road,  taking  a  last  look  at 
them  —  as  well  as  she  could  for  the  tears  which 
rained  down  her  honest,  black  face  —  through 
the  carriage  door. 

"  Never  you  mind,  Jennie,"  Celia  said.  "  If 
we  don't  come  back  pretty  soon,  we'll  bring 
you  out  to  us.  Would  you  be  afraid  to  run 
the  blockade  ?  Mrs.  Sherwin  will  tell  you  all 
about  us  as  soon  as  we've  had  time  to  send  a 
letter  back  to  her.  She's  coming  in  the  morn- 
ing, you  know,  Jennie,  to  tell  you  where  to  put 
things,  and  see  that  everything's  kept  just  right. 
You'd  better  take  a  holiday  this  afternoon,  I 
think ;  don't  pick  up  at  all.  Leave  everything 
just  as  it  is  until  morning." 

"Leave  the  house  all  in  a  clutter  like  this 
over  night  I  I  couldn't  sleep,  Miss  Celia,  if  I 
done  that." 

Winthrop  was  already  in  the  carriage,  and  Mr. 
Odell,  one  foot  on  the  step,  was  giving  a  word  of 
instruction  to  the  driver,  so  there  was  time  for 
only  a  word  more.  It  must  be  well  chosen,  too. 
This  sudden  spasm  of  conscientiousness  which 
had  unexpectedly  taken  possession  of  Jennie 
indeed  rendered  her  dangerous,  but  nothing  to 
what    she    would    be    if    her    curiosity   were 


THE  AWAKENING  277 

awakened.  Nothing  could  save  Martin  from 
speedy  discovery  if  she  ever  guessed  there  was 
anything  to  discover. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  Celia  said  to  her, 
"but  we'd  much  rather  you  didn't.  And  I 
should  think  that  you'd  w^ant  to  do  the  very  last 
thing  we  ask  you  to." 

"  Yes'm,"  she  answered  dubiously. 

It  would  not  be  safe  to  add  another  word, 
that  was  clear.  She  nodded  to  Mr.  Odell,  and  he 
called  to  the  coachman  to  drive  on. 

Though  Winthrop  had  needed,  during  the 
past  five  minutes,  more  than  one  swift  reminder 
and  had  cost  both  Celia  and  Mr.  Odell  a  little 
uneasiness,  nothing  could  have  been  finer  than 
the  part  he  took  during  the  time  that  their 
carriage  was  jolting  along  slowly  through  the 
muddy  streets  toward  the  Caroline's  wharf.  He 
was  absolutely  nonchalant,  his  talk  was  even  gay, 
but  there  was  none  of  that  feverish  brilliancy 
about  it  which  in  a  weaker  nature  so  often 
serves  as  a  sort  of  ghastly  cloak  to  cover  terror 
or  pain.  He  was  just  himself.  What  he  talked 
about  none  of  them  could  remember  afterwards, 
but  Celia  could  feel  the  high  nervous  tension  of 
a  few  moments  past  relaxing,  and  she  saw  with 
delight  a  little  flush  of  color  coming  back  into 
her  mother's  white  cheeks. 

"Why,  we're  nearly  there,"  she  said,  with  a 


278  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

glance  out  of  the  window.     "  It  hasn't  seemed 
long  at  all.     But  why  are  we  stopping  ?  " 

The  driver  had  indeed  pulled  up  his  horses, 
and  before  the  words  were  out  of  her  mouth, 
the  carriage  was  at  a  standstill. 

Mr.  Odell  opened  the  door  and  called  to  the 
driver,  "  What  are  you  stopping  for  ?  " 

"  The  gentleman  wants  to  speak  to  you,  sir," 
was  the  answer,  and,  on  the  heels  of  the  words, 
another  voice. 

"  Is  Captain  Carver  in  this  carriage  ?  " 

Winthrop  leaned  across  Mrs.  Townley  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  handle  to  the  other  door. 

"  Wait,  wait  a  minute,"  Celia  implored  in  a 
whisper. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  him  ?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Odell. 

"  The  pilot  sent  me  up  from  the  Ca/poline  to  find 
out  if  the  captain  didn't  think  we'd  better  wait 
till  to-morrow,  seeing  it's  got  so  late,  to  go  down 
the  river.     Is  he  in  the  carriage?" 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Odell,  "we'll  see  the 
pilot.  Drive  on."  He  slammed  the  door,  and 
the  carriage  began  jolting  along  again. 

Celia  and  Winthrop  exchanged  a  glance  of 
quick  alarm.  Neither  spoke,  but  to  both  the 
situation  seemed  critical.  But  it  was  Mr.  Odell's 
turn  now  to  rise  to  the  emergency.  Indeed,  he 
was   not   greatly  disturbed  by   it.     Out  at  sea 


THE   AWAKENING  279 

a  pilot  had  proved  more  than  a  match  for  him, 
but  they  were  still  on  land,  and  the  case  was 
altered. 

"  Don't  worry  about  the  pilot,"  he  said. 
"We'll  be  able  to  make  him  see  things  differ- 
ently without  much  trouble.  And  here  we  are. 
Remember,  I'm  to  help  Winthrop  out  first,  and 
you're  to  wait." 

They  had  arranged  this  detail  in  advance ;  it 
had  cost  them  indeed  a  good  deal  of  thought. 
As  soon  as  he  had  Winthrop  out  of  the  carriage, 
he  was  to  lead  him  across  the  wharf  to  the  gang- 
plank, and  was  to  send  whoever  came  to  meet 
them  back  to  the  assistance  of  the  ladies.  That 
would  get  at  least  one  person  out  of  the  way, 
and  might  postpone  the  meeting  with  others 
until  they  were  in  the  comparative  darkness  of 
the  Caroline's  main  deck. 

Since  the  interruption  of  their  drive  by  the 
messenger  from  the  ship,  Mrs.  Townley's  con- 
dition had  rapidly  grown  worse  again,  and  now 
it  was  positively  alarming.  She  was  very  white, 
and  the  trembling  of  her  lips  and  her  long,  fine 
hands  made  it  evident  enough  that  she  had  not  a 
shred  of  self-command  left. 

"  We're  there,  mother,"  said  Celia,  as  though 
the  ordeal  were  over,  and  not  just  about  to  begin. 
"  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  wait  here  till  some  one 
comes  to  help  us  out  of  the  carriage." 


280  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

The  carriage  was  pulling  up,  the  steward 
already  hurrying  across  the  gang-plank ;  Mr. 
Odell  had  the  door  open  and  was  halfway  out 
of  the  carriage,  but  he  found  time  for  a  glance 
at  Mrs.  Townley's  face  and  a  quiet  word  to  Win- 
throp. 

"  You're  not  to  stop,  whatever  happens,  back 
here.  It'll  be  none  of  your  business."  Then 
aloud,  "  Now,  Captain,  easy  !     There's  no  hurry." 

Winthrop  descended  heavily,  and  had  just 
time  to  turn  away  from  the  carriage,  leaning  on 
Mr.  Odell's  shoulder,  when  the  steward  was 
beside  them. 

"  Look  out  for  the  ladies,  will  you  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Odell.     "  I've  got  the  captain,  all  right." 

So  far  all  was  well,  for  the  steward  obeyed 
instantly,  but  they  had  only  got  the  lesser  lion 
out  of  the  path.  The  pilot  was  already  crossing 
the  gang-plank  and  coming  toward  them.  How 
they  were  to  get  by  without  giving  him  a  chance 
for  a  question  and  putting  Winthrop  to  the 
necessity  of  making  a  reply,  neither  could  guess. 
For  the  next  five  seconds  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  walk  blindly  up  to  the  peril. 

But  when  he  was  still  perhaps  three  paces 
from  them,  Mr.  Odell  saw  his  gaze  leave  them 
suddenly  and  go  to  the  carriage,  and  an  instant 
later  they  heard  an  outcry  from  Celia.  It  had 
so  genuinely  the  ring  of  terror  in  it  that  even 


THE  AWAKENING  281 

the  older  man  faltered,  while  Winthrop  stopped 
short  and  turned.  The  sharp  grip  on  his  arm, 
however,  recalled  him  to  his  part,  and  he  sub- 
mitted to  be  led  across  the  gang-plank.  The 
path  was  clear,  for  the  pilot  had  run  to  the  car- 
riage. The  others  whom  they  met  on  the  way 
were  easily  sent  off  to  the  assistance  of  the  lady 
who  had  fainted,  and  within  two  minutes  of  the 
time  they  had  left  the  carriage,  Winthrop  was 
safe  in  the  captain's  cabin. 

Almost  immediately  after  them  came  Celia 
and  the  little  group  who  were  awkwardly  carry- 
ing Mrs.  Townley,  for  Mr.  Odell  had  rightly 
guessed  the  cause  of  Celia's  outcry.  She  was 
still  unconscious,  and  they  carried  her  through 
the  saloon  to  the  state-room  that  had  been  se- 
lected for  her.  Mr.  Odell  stepped  out  into  the 
saloon  just  in  time  to  hear  Mr.  White  telling  a 
boy  to  run  and  fetch  a  doctor. 

"  I  don't  believe  that's  necessary,"  he  said  — 
for  every  moment  of  delay  now  in  casting  off 
and  getting  away  was  big  with  chances  against 
them.  "  She's  not  been  well  and  she's  fainted, 
but  she  ought  to  be  right  again  in  five  minutes. 
And  it's  high  time  we  were  off,  without  any 
more  delay." 

The  mate  looked  at  him  questioningly  and 
asked  if  they  had  not  met  the  messenger  from 
the  pilot. 


282  TRAITOR  AND  LOYALIST 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  had  his  message.  I'll  see  him  in 
a  moment.  But  we  must  find  out  about  Mrs. 
Townley,  first." 

So  they  stood  there  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
the  one  asking  aimless  questions  about  the  cap- 
tain's condition,  and  the  other  answering  almost 
equally  at  random. 

"  I  think  I  will  send  for  a  doctor,  if  you 
please,"  said  the  mate,  at  the  end  of  that  time. 
"  The  matter  may  be  serious." 

It  was  quite  true,  and  Mr.  Odell  was  about  to 
assent  when  Celia  came  out  into  the  saloon. 

He  had  always  admired  her ;  during  these 
past  two  or  three  days  he  had  often  wished  he 
had  a  daughter  just  like  her,  but  never  so  much 
as  at  this  moment.  She  answered  Mr.  White's 
inquiry  with  the  prettiest  grace  in  the  world. 
It  wasn't  necessary  at  all  to  send  for  a  doctor, 
she  said,  and  she  concluded,  with  a  smile  that 
was  half  tremulous  and  wholly  adorable,  "  I  was 
dreadfully  frightened.  I'm  afraid  I  was  rather 
silly." 

Even  as  Mr.  White  saw  her  she  was  lovely, 
and  he  saw  only  what  was  plain  to  see ;  as  for 
Patrick  Odell,  who  knew  the  steady  courage 
burning  in  those  bright  eyes,  the  pluck  in  those 
tremulously  smiling  lips,  he  could  only  glance 
and  glance  away  and  endeavor  to  blink  away  the 
tears  which  at  her  smile  had  sprung  into  his  eyes. 


THE   AWAKENING  283 

She  stayed  only  long  enough  to  hear  Mr.  White's 
polite  assurances  and  Mr.  Odell's  fragmentary 
congratulations,  and  then  went  swiftly  back  to 
her  mother. 

"We'll  attend  to  that  matter  with  the  pilot 
now,  if  you  please,  Mr.  White."  Mr.  Odell  spoke 
in  a  drier  tone  even  than  was  usual  with  him. 
"  Will  you  ask  him  to  come  down  here  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Pilot,"  he  said,  when  the  mate 
reappeared  with  him,  "  I  understand  you  aren't 
exactly  inclined  to  take  us  down  the  river  in  the 
dark." 

"  Are  you  very  anxious  to  go  ?  "  asked  the  pilot. 
"  What  does  the  captain  think  about  it  ?  " 

"Ask  him,"  said  Mr.  Odell.  "Mr.  White's 
captain  this  trip.  Captain  Carver  isn't  well 
enough  to  be  referred  to  at  all."  As  he  spoke, 
he  moved  a  little  farther  away  from  the  cabin 
door  as  if  to  prevent  Martin  from  overhearing 
what  they  said.  "  But  I  am  anxious  to  go.  It's 
important  that  I  should  be  in  Nassau  by  Friday 
morning,  and  Captain  Carver,  too." 

"  It's  this  way,"  said  the  pilot.  "  The  river's 
high,  and  the  tide's  running  out,  and  there's  going 
to  be  a  white  fog  to-night,  till  midnight  anyway. 
Leaving  out  our  chance  of  striking  a  snag  that 
would  dig  a  hole  in  her,  we're  likely  to  get 
aground  somewhere  and  stick.  No  —  I'd  say 
wait." 


284  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

"  I'm  anxious  enough  to  be  in  Nassau  Friday 
to  run  a  bigger  risk ;  to  run  a  bigger  risk  and  to 
pay  for  the  privilege.  I'll  pay  you  a  bonus  of  a 
thousand  dollars  if  you'll  take  us  out  to-night." 

"  I  guess  you  haven't  exactly  got  the  bearings 
of  this  business,"  said  the  pilot,  ironically.  "  I 
get  paid  all  I  ask  for  pilotage  these  days,  and  it 
wasn't  because  I  v^^anted  more  that  I  said  w^e'd 
wait  till  to-morrow." 

If  Mr.  Odell  had,  as  it  appeared,  made  a 
blunder,  he  was  quick  to  retrieve  it.  "  You're 
quite  right,"  he  said  decisively.  "  If  you're 
afraid  you  can't  do  it,  there's  an  end  of  it,  and 
it  isn't  a  question  of  money  at  all."  He  looked 
at  his  watch  musingly.  "  It's  a  little  late  to 
try  for  another  pilot,  but  we  must  get  off  some- 
how." 

"  I  didn't  say  I  couldnH  do  it.  You  mean  to 
try  it,  anyhow,  eh  ?  Do  you  suppose  the  cap- 
tain —  " 

"Judge  for  yourself.  He  knew  what  time  it 
was  when  we  left  the  house.  He's  wondering 
this  minute  why  we  aren't  off  already." 

"  Well,  then  —  "  the  pilot  said.  He  moved 
his  feet  a  little  nervously.  "As  to  that  bonus, 
now  —  " 

"  Oh,  that  holds,"  said  Mr.  Odell. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  pilot.  "  Here's  hoping 
we'll  have  luck.     We'll  need  it." 


THE  AWAKENING  285 

A  little  later  Celia,  as  she  watched  beside  her 
mother,  heard  the  signal  bell,  felt  the  well-re- 
membered pulse  of  the  engines  once  more,  and 
looking  out  the  window  saw  the  well-known 
landmarks  on  the  bank  slipping  by.  They  were 
leaving  home  again,  and  something  about  the 
notion  made  her  laugh  weakly.  She  found 
herself  somewhat  giddy,  and  steadied  herself 
with  a  hand  on  the  window  ledge,  drawing  her 
breath  slow  and  deep.  Then  with  a  gush  of 
tears  she  sank  on  her  knees  beside  her  mother's 
bed. 

As  the  pilot  had  prophesied,  the  white  fog  lay 
heavy  that  night  upon  the  river  and  the  marshes, 
all  the  way  from  Wilmington  to  the  sea.  The 
sky  was  clear  and  the  moonlight,  turning  the 
mist  to  silver,  made  it  all  the  more  opaque,  so 
that  navigation  was  no  easy  matter.  Neverthe- 
less, the  river  to-night  was  a  scene  of  unusual 
activity.  There  w^ere  nondescript  craft  of  vari- 
ous sorts  plying  up  and  down  all  the  evening, 
little  steamers  and  launches,  and  now  and  then 
a  long  tow  of  empty  rowboats.  About  eight 
o'clock,  the  A.  D.  Vance,  a  blockade-runner 
owned  by  the  state  of  North  Carolina,  steamed 
slowdy  down  past  Campbell's  Island,  her  decks 
crowded  with  soldiers. 

The  channel  there  sets  in  close  to  the  south- 


286  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

east  face  of  the  island,  and  the  ship  and  the 
cargo  she  carried  were  plainly  visible  to  two 
men  who  were  crouching  just  behind  the  point 
of  it.  They  were  squatting  low  in  the  mud 
and  water,  and  had  between  them  a  small  log 
which  they  had  used  as  a  support  in  swimming. 
The  older  man  —  and  he  was  much  too  old  for 
such  an  adventure  as  this  seemed  to  be  —  showed 
plainly,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  hide  them,  the 
signs  of  exhaustion  and  suffering,  and  his  com- 
panion took  occasion,  while  he  was  gazing 
eagerly  at  the  steamer,  to  cast  a  dubious  look 
at  him. 

"  We  might  as  well  heave  to  right  here  for  a 
spell,  I  guess,"  he  said.  "  We  ain't  going  to  be 
in  time,  anyway." 

"  They'll  have  to  wait  for  the  moon  to  set, 
Bill,"  the  other  answered.  "  We've  got  more 
than  four  hours  yet.  And  they  haven't  got 
every  boat  on  the  river.  We'll  find  something 
yet.  That's  all  we  need,  and  the  Johnnies  will 
find  something  they  don't  expect  when  they  get 
outside." 

So  far  he  spoke  hopefully,  but  a  moment 
later,  stifling  a  groan  of  pain,  he  leaned  wearily 
on  his  companion.  "  I  guess  you'd  better  go  on 
alone,  Bill.  It's  no  good  taking  me  any  farther, 
and  if  you  were  alone,  perhaps  you  could  get 
out  in  time." 


THE   AWAKENING  287 

"  And  you  ?  "  demanded  the  otlier  with  kindly 
irony.     "  What'd  you  do  then,  Captain  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  the  log  and  get  as  near  salt  water 
as  I  can  before  I  go  down  to  stay.  I  never 
thought  to  lie  in  fresh,  but  it's  better'n  what 
they  wanted  to  give  us,  damn  'em.  And  the 
tide'll  give  me  a  taste  of  salt  everj^  day." 

His  companion's  hand  fell  lightly  on  his 
shoulder.     "  Listen,"  he  said. 

The}'  might  have  heard  it  before,  for  the  night 
was  still,  had  it  not  been  for  the  Vance  —  the 
rhythmic  click  of  a  pair  of  oars  in  ill-fitting 
locks.  The  boat  was  coming  round  the  west 
side  of  the  island,  making  it  seem  probable  that 
whoever  was  aboard  liked  the  company  the  main 
channel  afforded  as  little  as  they  did. 

"  There's  only  one  man  rowing,"  said  the  elder 
man,  after  listening  a  minute.  "  If  there  ain't  too 
many  passengers,  we've  got  our  boat  right  here." 

"  Sure  and  easy.  He's  most  likely  a  nigger 
who'll  be  scared  to  death  if  we  say  boo  to  him. 
There !  I  can  make  him  out.  There's  no  one 
else  in  the  boat,  as  I  can  see." 

"  He  don't  row  like  a  nigger.  He  rows  like 
a  deep-sea  sailor." 

The  other  assented  with  a  nod.  "Maybe  it 
won't  be  so  easy,  after  all." 

"  It's  the  best  chance  we'll  have,"  said  the  old 
man. 


288  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

The  oarsman  was  pulling  steadily  along  in 
about  five  feet  of  water.  Half  wading,  half 
swimming,  the  two  slipped  noiselessly  out  into 
his  path.  Their  procedure  was  simplified  by  the 
fact  that  they  had  to  do  with  a  practised  oars- 
man ;  the  boat  never  swerved  a  point  out  of  its 
course.  In  about  thirty  seconds  he  would  be 
abreast  of  them. 

"  Stay  back  a  little,"  breathed  the  younger 
man,  in  a  noiseless  whisper.  "  I  can  pull  him 
into  the  water.  Two  of  us  would  only  make 
a  mess  of  it." 

Without  waiting  for  any  repl}^,  he  moved  for- 
ward a  little,  exactly  into  the  path  of  the  boat, 
and  crouched  down  so  that  he  was  submerged  to 
the  eves.     So  he  waited  till  the  bow  was  within 

ft/ 

arm's  length,  then  with  his  hand  he  pushed  it 
gently  aside  and,  as  the  oarsman  turned  in  his 
seat,  he  vaulted  suddenly  upon  the  gunwale. 
The  cranky  little  river-skiff  capsized  instantly, 
and  began  to  sink. 

So  far  all  had  gone  exactly  according  to  his 
calculations,  but  at  that  very  moment  his  part 
in  the  affair,  except  as  an  entirely  passive  one, 
was  over.  For,  instead  of  sprawling  wildly,  as 
he  might  have  been  expected  to  do,  in  the  effort 
to  right  his  boat  and  recover  his  balance,  the 
oarsman  struck.  A  short  fore-arm  blow  was 
all  he  had  time  for,  but  it  landed  fairly  on  his 


THE   AWAKENING  289 

assailant's  neck,  and  the  two  men  were  slumped 
into  the  river  together. 

The  old  man  rushed  forward  at  the  sound  of 
the  blow,  and  when  the  oarsman,  alone,  rose 
dripping  out  of  the  water,  he  stood  only  a  short 
space  from  him.  He  had  his  arm  drawn  back 
to  strike,  but  the  man's  great  height  as  he  drew 
himself  up  to  it,  the  familiar  outline  of  his 
mighty,  stooping  shoulders,  the  flash  of  recog- 
nition that  these  hints  kindled,  arrested  the 
blow. 

"  You  !  "  he  said  hoarsely. 

Martin  was  but  a  second  behind  him.  "  Cap- 
tain Dearborn  !  "  he  said. 

They  stood  silent  for  an  instant ;  then  Martin 
added  quickly,  "You'd  better  look  after  the 
boat."  He  himself  disappeared  again  under 
the  water,  to  come  up  holding  the  limp  form 
of  the  sailor.  Without  another  word  he  waded 
ashore  with  him.  Captain  Dearborn  following, 
dragging  the  boat  and  capturing  the  drifting  oars. 

Martin  laid  the  man  on  the  muddy  bank,  lis- 
tened for  the  beat  of  his  heart,  and  began  work- 
ing his  arms  vigorously  up  and  down.  After 
Captain  Dearborn  had  emptied  the  water  out 
of  the  boat,  he  pulled  it  up  on  the  bank  and 
came  and  stood  beside  him. 

"  You've  done  for  him,  I  reckon,"  he  said. 

"No,  he'll  be  right  directly."      Then,  as  the 


290  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

man  began  breathing  again  without  assistance^ 
he  added,  "  He'll  do  very  well  by  himself  now. 
We'd  better  be  off." 

Between  them  they  carried  the  still  uncon- 
scious sailor  to  the  boat  and  shoved  off,  Martin 
again  taking  the  oars,  and  Captain  Dearborn 
sitting  in  the  stern,  holding  the  head  of  his 
fallen  comrade  on  his  knees. 

The  fact  that  it  was  so  obviously  the  hour  to 
do  and  not  to  talk,  and  the  fear  that  the  sounds 
of  the  brief  struggle  might  have  fallen  on  other 
ears  than  their  own,  caused  Martin  to  settle  to 
his  work  again  without  a  word,  and,  as  he  sup- 
posed, accounted  for  his  old  commander's  silence 
also. 

But  a  little  later  the  sailor  sat  up,  looked 
around,  trying  to  get  the  bearings  of  the  new 
situation,  and  finally  asked,  "  Have  they  took 
us,  Captain  ?  " 

Still,  to  Martin's  surprise,  the  captain  said 
not  a  word,  and  after  waiting  a  moment  he 
answered  the  question  himself. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  you've  tumbled  into  the  best 
sort  of  luck.      Lie  down  again  and  keep  quiet." 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  get  the  rights  of  this 
business,"  said  the  old  man,  and  Martin  noted 
that  he  used  no  form  of  address  whatever. 
"  Ain't  you  going  to  take  us  down  to  the  fort 
and  give  us  up  ?  " 


THE   AWAKENING  291 

Martin  shot  him  a  look  of  clear  astonishment, 
and  then  leaned  forward  so  that  the  other  could 
see  his  face  more  clearly  through  the  bright  mist. 
"  You  knew  me  a  moment  ago,"  he  said  gently. 
"I'm  Martin  Carver.  I'm  going  to  try  to  get 
you  off,  of  course." 

"  Well,  would  you  mind  telling  me  why, 
Captain  ?  " 

"  You  needn't  worry  about  that  now,"  he 
said  soothingly.  "You're  going  to  get  ofP,  all 
right." 

But  the  effect  of  the  words  was  anything  but 
soothing.  "  Don't  talk  to  me  as  if  I  was  wrong 
in  my  head.  I'm  as  right  as  you  are.  I  want 
to  know  what  you  mean  to  do  with  us." 

"  I've  got  a  steamer  down  at  Smithville  wait- 
ing for  me,"  he  answered,  avoiding  his  former 
tone  which  had  so  irritated  the  old  man. 
"  She's  going  out  to-night  through  the  block- 
ade. I'll  find  some  way  of  getting  you  aboard, 
and  then  I'll  take  you  through  to  Nassau.  I 
don't  know  just  how  I'll  do  it  yet,  but  I'll  find 
a  plan  before  we  get  down  there.  You  needn't 
worry  about  it  at  all,  either  of  you." 

"  Stow  it !  "  the  captain  retorted,  roused  again 
by  the  implication  in  the  last  words,  "  I've  got 
some  thinking  of  my  own  to  do.  I'm  not  crazy ; 
though  since  they  brought  us  to  Wilmington  I 
thought  more  than  once  I  must  be  getting  so." 


292  TEAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

Martin  made  no  answer,  asked  no  solution  to 
the  enigma  in  the  captain's  last  words,  and,  the 
old  man  volunteering  none,  seemed  to  settle  him- 
self to  the  thinking  he  had  spoken  of.  The 
sailor,  after  having  asked  his  one  question,  ap- 
peared to  have  gone  to  sleep.  For  the  next 
hour,  except  for  the  tireless  rhythm  of  the  oars, 
there  was  silence.  The  tide  had  turned  against 
the  boat,  and  with  the  load  she  carried  she 
moved  heavily  through  the  water,  but  steadily. 
Alike  without  haste  and  without  flagging,  the 
short,  powerful  strokes,  with  the  half-second  of 
rest  between,  took  her  down  the  river. 

At  the  end  of  the  time,  without  any  change  in 
his  position,  without  once  raising  his  eyes,  the 
old  captain  suddenly  began  speaking.  His  voice 
was  very  low,  and  he  spoke  with  the  detached, 
reflective  air  of  one  commenting  on  something 
said  not  a  moment  before. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  "  when  they  took  us  into 
Wilmington  and  I  began  to  hear  about  Captain 
Martin  Carver  being  in  town  and  how  he'd 
turned  secesh  along  with  his  dad,  I  thought 
I  must  be  crazy.  And  when  I  found  it  was 
true,"  he  sank  his  voice  still  lower,  and  the 
words  were  no  mere  sailor's  oath,  "  I  wished  to 
God  that  they'd  found  out  sooner  about  the 
parole  I'd  given  Semmes,  and  filled  me  full  of 
lead  against  a  wall  before  I  knew  he'd  done  it. 


THE   AWAKENING  293 

Why,  you  was  like  my  son,  Martin,"  he  went  on. 
"  You'd  sailed  under  me,  and  I'd  taught  you  all 
you  knew,  and  I  was  as  proud  of  you  as  if  you'd 
been  my  own  son.  My  God,  boy,  why  did  j^ou 
do  it  ?  Wasn't  it  bad  enough  that  he  should  go 
without  your  going  with  him  ?  Why  did  you 
do  it,  too  ?  " 

Had  Martin  had  a  reply  ready,  he  would  have 
had  no  chance  to  make  it ;  for  without  any 
pause  whatever,  but  in  a  very  different  tone,  the 
old  man  went  on.  "  As  to  going  out  with  you 
to-night,  it  won't  do,  though  we're  much  obliged 
to  you.  I  said  the  twenty-third  of  last  July  that 
I'd  be  damned  before  I  ever  set  foot  on  a  deck 
plank  owned  by  John  Carver  again,  and  I  say  it 
yet.  And  if  I  didn't  we've  got  other  work  cut 
out  for  us  to-night,  eh,  Bill  ?  " 

The  sailor  had  roused  when  first  the  captain 
had  begun  to  speak.  "  Sure,"  he  said  vaguely. 
But  in  another  instant  he  was  fully  alive  again. 
He  darted  a  look  from  his  commander  to  the 
oarsman,  and  then  back  again.  "  Are  we  in 
time  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Is  he  going  out  with 
us  ?  If  we  ain't  most  to  Federal  Point  there's 
no  time  to  lose,  for  they  won't  wait  long  after 
the  moon.     Here,  give  me  an  oar." 

He  pulled  himself  up  stiffly  and  reached 
toward  Martin  for  the  oar,  and  in  doing  so  he 
recognized,    for    the    first    time,    who    he    was. 


294  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

<'  You  —  "  he  cried,  with  an  oath.  "  Well,  how 
much  do  you  know  ?  Are  you  going  to  try  to 
stop  us?     If  you  do  —  " 

"  Sit  down,"  Martin  commanded.  The  sailor 
had  crouched  as  if  about  to  spring  at  him ;  but 
there  was  no  break  in  the  sweep  of  the  oars. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool.  Bill,"  said  Captain  Dearborn, 
gently.     "  We've  nothing  to  gain  by  fighting." 

It  was  good  enough  counsel  to  appeal  even  to 
Bill.  The  gigantic  size  and  strength  of  his  oppo- 
nent, and  the  strong  probability  that  if  there 
should  be  any  noise  about  the  struggle,  they 
would  not  be  left  to  finish  it  out  by  themselves, 
made  it  clear  enough  that  they  could  only  lose 
by  leaving  the  matter  to  the  primitive  arbitra- 
ment he  had  meant  to  try. 

"  I  guess  you're  right  about  one  thing,"  said 
Martin,  after  a  few  moments'  silence.  "  I  guess 
it  is  time  to  get  the  rights  of  this  business.  You 
say  you  aren't  crazy ;  I  suppose  you  aren't.  There 
are  plenty  of  liars  in  the  world  ;  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  the  name  of  one  of  them." 

He  paused  a  moment ;  then,  quietly,  but  in  a 
voice  vibrating  with  passion  he  asked  a  question 
that  made  them  gasp  and  stare  in  stupid  aston- 
ishment, that  made  them  doubt  for  an  instant 
whether  his  own  wits  had  not  gone  astray. 

"  Who  was  it  told  you  I'd  turned  secesh  ?  " 

"  Told  us  ! "  echoed  the  captain,  when  he  had 


THE   AWAKENING  295 

got  his  breath.  "  We  didn't  need  no  telling.  We 
heard  what  you  was  doing  —  what  you've  been 
doing  since  last  November.  We  didn't  need 
any  more  telling  than  that." 

The  sailor  laughed  coarsely,  and  addressed  his 
captain.  "  If  he  ain't  secesh,  what  the  hell  is 
he?" 

For  the  first  time  in  the  long  hours  since  they 
had  left  Campbell's  Island,  the  rhythm  of  the 
oars  faltered,  faltered  and  stopped. 

Captain  Dearborn  leaned  forward.  "  You  ain't 
good  secesh,  though,  Martin,  and  that's  a  fact. 
You're  mean  secesh.  You  set  them  on  to  fight, 
you  sneak  things  in  to  them  to  help  them  keep 
it  up,  but  you  keep  a  whole  skin  yourself.  Just 
sit  still  there,  and  try  to  think  what  it  means." 

The  last  words  cut  deepest  of  all,  for  they 
were  an  echo  of  the  message  Winthrop's  hand 
had  once  scrawled  on  a  bit  of  paper. 

In  absolute  silence  for  a  short  while,  the  little 
boat  drifted  whither  the  tidal  eddies  would  take 
her.  Once  indeed  during  the  time  the  sailor 
moved  as  if  about  to  speak,  but  the  peremptory 
hand  of  his  commander  stayed  him.  At  last 
Martin  Carver  again  addressed  himself  to  the 
oars,  but  he  pulled,  the  others  noted,  like  a  man 
exhausted. 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  take  a  turn  at  it,  Bill," 
said  the  captain.     "  He's  about  spent." 


296  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

But  Martin  shook  his  head  and  went  on  row- 
ing. At  last  he  turned  and  pointed  through  the 
mist. 

"  There's  the  Caroline^''  he  said.  Then,  after 
a  pause,  "I  know  what  you  want  to  do.  You're 
going  to  try  to  get  out  to  warn  the  squadron  of 
an  attack  that  is  to  be  made  to-night  in  boats. 
Can  I  help  you  ?     I'm  under  your  orders." 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  the  captain,  "  except  by 
giving  us  the  boat." 

Martin  moved  forward  into  the  bow  seat. 
"  Take  the  oars,"  he  said  to  the  sailor,  "  and  row 
to  the  Caroline^  Then  to  the  captain,  "  Which 
squadron  do  you  want  to  warn  ?  " 

«  East  channel." 

"  You're  sure  of  it  ?  " 

"  Sure.  They  hadn't  any  secrets  from  us.  We 
were  to  have  been  the  kind  of  men  that  tell  no 
tales  before  this." 

"  Then,  when  they  hail  you  from  the  Caroline 
you  ask  if  she  is  the  Theodora.  She's  to  go  out 
to-night  and  she  is  berthed  in  the  Horseshoe  Chan- 
nel, near  Federal  Point.  When  they  tell  you  so, 
pull  away  in  that  direction.  It's  your  way  out. 
The  Caroline  goes  out  the  other  channel." 

"  And  you  ?     What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  about  me.  I  shan't  be  in  your 
way." 

The  sailor  looked  doubtfully  at  Captain  Dear- 


THE   AWAKENING  297 

born.  "  Do  as  he  tells  you,"  said  he.  "  It's  all 
right." 

"  Give  way  as  quietly  as  you  can,"  Martin 
added. 

They  were  almost  at  the  ship's  side,  deep  in 
the  long  shadow  she  cut  in  the  moonlight,  before 
they  were  hailed.  They  followed  Martin's  direc- 
tions, and  w^ere  answered  as  he  had  said  they 
would  be.  Then,  as  the  sailor  backed  water  and 
pulled  the  boat  around,  they  became  aware,  from 
the  sudden  alteration  in  the  trim,  that  they  w^ere 
alone  in  it.  Martin  had  slipped  over  the  bow 
and  sunk  noiselessly  into  the  quiet  water. 

When  he  came  up,  he  lay  for  a  while  quite  still, 
treading  just  enough  to  keep  his  face  above  the 
surface.  Then,  when  he  had  his  chance,  a  couple 
of  strokes  took  him  to  the  side,  and  he  drew  him- 
self up  in  the  shadow  of  the  port  paddle-box. 


CHAPTER   XV 

Before  the  moon  was  down  behind  the  trees 
on  Oak  Island  the  Caroline  got  up  her  anchors 
and  steamed  slowly  past  Smithville  and  around 
the  great  bend  in  the  channel  west  of  Battery 
Island.  The  mist  had  lifted,  and  the  harbor  in 
the  last  rays  of  the  moon  was  all  alight.  Under 
the  frowning  silhouette  of  Fort  Caswell  the  Caro- 
line  paused,  turning  her  wheels  just  enough  to 
hold  her  up  against  the  incoming  tide. 

"Look  over  there,"  said  Mr.  White.  Behind 
the  fort  where  the  expanse  of  the  Elizabeth  River 
gave  back  to  the  slanting  moonlight  a  faint  re- 
flection, they  could  see  a  dark  mass  which  seemed 
to  be  made  up  of  a  number  of  small  boats.  The 
men  on  the  bridge  had  not,  of  course,  been  un- 
aware of  the  unwonted  activity  on  the  river  to- 
night. They,  like  Mr.  Odell,  had  heard  rumors 
of  it  in  advance,  and  were  not  without  a  guess 
as  to  what  it  might  mean. 

"  I  guess  I  had  it  wrong,"  said  the  pilot.  "  It 
looks  as  though  the  shindy  was  going  to  take 
place  down  here.  I  was  told  it  was  to  be  up  at 
New  Inlet." 

"We've   plenty  of   time   yet,"  suggested  the 

298 


THE   AWAKENING  299 

other.     "  We  might  go  back  and  try  it  the  other 
way." 

"No,"  the  pilot  answered  thoughtfully.  "I 
don't  know  exactly  what  they're  going  to  try  to 
do,  but  it's  as  likely  to  help  us  on  as  it  is  to 
hinder ;  or  more  so  if  we  time  it  right.  There'll 
be  a  few  minutes  to-night  when  the  Yankees 
will  have  something  to  think  about  besides  the 
runners." 

The  moon  went  down  behind  the  trees,  the 
sky  turned  from  steel-gray  to  blue  black,  and 
the  little  points  of  light  which  spangled  it  began 
twinkling  brilliantly. 

"We  may  as  well  be  off,"  said  the  pilot. 
With  a  nod  of  assent,  Mr.  White  sent  down 
word  to  Mr.  Morgan  to  know  if  he  were  ready 
for  the  dash. 

"  Ready  this  half  hour,"  came  back  the  answer 
from  the  engine-room. 

The  pilot  had  his  hand  on  the  signal  lever, 
when  Mr.  White  touched  his  arm.  "There's  a 
boat  coming  our  way  —  in  a  hurry,  too.  Hear 
how  they  pull." 

In  an  instant  came  a  hail,  "What  ship  is 
that  ?  " 

Mr.  White  answered  :  "  The  Caroline.  Do  you 
want  anything  with  us  ?  " 

All  they  got  by  way  of  immediate  reply  was 
a  succession  of  quick  orders  to  the  boat's  crew, 


300  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

and  the  rattle  of  unshipped  oars  as  it  came 
alongside. 

The  officer  who  had  hailed  clambered  aboard, 
and  came  up  on  the  bridge. 

"  I'd  like  to  speak  to  Captain  Carver,"  he 
said. 

"  I'm  acting  master,"  said  Mr.  White.  "  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Where  is  the  captain  ?  " 

"  In  his  bunk,  sick.  He's  been  sick  several 
days." 

"  When  did  he  come  aboard  ?  " 

"  Just  before  we  cast  off,  at  Wilmington." 

«  You  saw  him  yourself,  did  you  ?  " 

"  What's  all  this  about  ? "  demanded  Mr. 
White.     "  Of  course   I   saw   him.     Why  not  ? " 

"They  telegraphed  down  from  Wilmington  a 
few  minutes  ago  that  a  man  w^ho  resembled 
Captain  Carver  had  been  seen  getting  into  a 
river  skiff  up  there  an  hour  and  more  after  the 
Caroline  had  left.  Since  that  spy  got  off  last 
week  they've  had  a  sharp  eye  out  for  anybody 
who  looked  like  the  captain  and  wasn't.  My 
orders  are  to  satisfy  myself  that  it  was  he  who 
came  aboard  this  afternoon."  Then,  to  the 
pilot ;  "  You  saw  him,  too,  did  you  ?  You're 
sure  it  wasn't  some  one  else  ? " 

If  the  two  men  he  was  interrogating  had  been 
capable  of  reviewing  the  facts  as  they  actually 


THE  AWAKENING  301 

stood,  they  would  have  realized  that,  as  it  had 
happened,  no  one  had  really  had  a  good  look 
at  the  stooping,  muffled  figure  which  Mr.  Odell 
had  led  aboard.  But  few  men  are  able  to  look 
at  a  long-accepted  fact  from  a  novel  point  of 
view,  and  neither  of  these  was  of  the  number. 

"  Sure  it  wasn't  some  one  else  !  "  repeated  the 
pilot.  "Do  you  think  Mr.  White  and  I  and 
half  the  ship's  crew  are  a  pack  of  damn  fools  ? 
We  all  saw  him  in  broad  daylight.  Don't  you 
think  we  know  him  ?  " 

"Maybe  we  don't,  though,"  said  Mr.  White, 
ironically.  "  Perhaps  you'd  better  go  down  and 
have  a  look  at  him  yourself." 

"  Orders  are  orders,"  answered  the  lieutenant. 
"  I  think  I  will." 

He  was  at  the  head  of  the  bridge  ladder,  and 
about  to  descend,  when  a  voice  from  below 
stopped  him.  "Who  is  it  he  wants  to  see, 
Mr.  White  ? "  Looking  down,  the  three  men 
on  the  bridge  saw  Martin  Carver  come  slowly 
up  the  ladder.  As  he  came  into  the  patch  of 
light  from  the  binnacle,  they  saw  that  his  dress 
was  disordered,  as  if  hastily  put  on,  and  his  face 
was  colorless  under  his  coat  of  tan.  When  he 
spoke  it  was  with  difficulty,  like  a  man  shud- 
dering with  cold. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  turn  out  on  my  account. 
Captain,"  said  the  lieutenant.     Then,  in  as  few 


302  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

words  as  possible,  he  repeated  the  cause  of  his 
errand  to  the  Caroline.  "  I  suppose,"  he  added 
in  conclusion,  "  that  some  idiot  up  in  Wilming- 
ton saw  a  tall  man  somewhere  in  the  dark,  and 
thought  he'd  made  a  discovery.  And  the  conse- 
quence is  that  I've  detained  you  and  I've  lost 
my  share  in  the  action  to-night.  The  boats 
were  getting  away  when  I  left  Fort  Caswell, 
and  I've  got  to  go  back  there  to  make  my 
report." 

"  Fort  Caswell  ?  "  said  Martin,  quickly.  «  I 
understood  the  expedition  was  going  out  New 
Inlet." 

'*  Everybody  thought  so  till  this  afternoon," 
was  the  answer.  "  The  orders  weren't  changed 
till  four  o'clock.  I  believe  they  found  that  the 
other  squadron  had  been  reenforced.  Good  night 
to  you,  and  good  luck  getting  out ! " 

"  Can't  you  tell  us  a  little  more  ? "  the  pilot 
asked.     "  It  may  help  us." 

"There's  no  harm  now,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
officer.  "  Stick  to  Bald-head  Channel  and  you'll 
be  all  right.  The  attack's  to  be  made  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line." 

He  slipped  over  the  side,  and  the  boat  pulled 
away.  The  pilot  gave  the  long-awaited  signal 
to  the  engine-room.  The  Caroline  began  her 
voyage. 

Just  about  at  the  moment  when  Martin  went 


THE   AWAKENING  303 

up  on  the  bridge,  Celia,  who  had  heard  the  boat 
come  alongside,  and  had  endured  the  uncertainty 
as  to  what  it  might  mean  as  long  as  she  could, 
leaving  her  mother  asleep,  came  out  into  the 
saloon  and  there  encountered  Mr.  Odell. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Do  you  think 
anything  has  happened  to  Martin  ?  Oh,  I  wish 
he  would  come  !  " 

"  He's  here.  He  came  into  the  cabin  about 
half  an  hour  ago.  He  changed  his  clothes,  and 
I  had  the  steward  bring  him  something  to  eat. 
Then  we  heard  the  boat  come  up,  so  he  went  out 
to  see  what  it  was.     1  wonder  —  " 

"  Listen,"  she  said.  "  The  boat's  going  away." 
Then,  as  they  felt  the  Caroline  starting  on  her 
way  again,  she  sank  into  a  chair,  panting.  "  We're 
safe,"  she  said.     "We're  all  safe  at  last." 

«  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Bar  the  blockade,  our 
troubles  are  over." 

"  What  did  Martin  say  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 
"  Did  he  have  a  very  hard  time  getting  off  ?  " 

He  was  not,  for  a  moment,  ready  with  his 
reply.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Martin  had  left  both 
himself  and  Winthrop  thoroughly  mystified  and 
not  a  little  alarmed.  His  appearance,  white, 
dripping,  like  the  ghost  of  a  man  drowned,  wild- 
eyed  as  if  he  had  seen  such  an  apparition,  his 
manner,  detached,  mechanical,  left  them  no  doubt 
that  some  terrible  experience  had  befallen  him 


304  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

since  they  had  parted  from  him  that  afternoon. 
But  he  had  not  answered  their  questions,  had 
hardly  spoken  a  dozen  words  all  the  while  he 
was  changing  his  clothes  and  eating  what  Mr. 
Odell  had  ordered  the  steward  to  bring  him. 
And  at  last,  just  as  he  was  leaving  the  cabin, 
had  come  the  strangest  thing  of  all.  He  had  his 
hand  on  the  latch  when  he  turned  suddenly  and 
faced  his  brother,  as  if  about  to  speak  to  him. 
But  no  words  at  all  had  come  to  his  lips ;  he  only 
looked  at  him,  and  such  was  the  agony  of  the 
look  that  both  men  had  sprung  forward  to  sup- 
port him,  thinking  him  about  to  fall.  Then  he 
had  swiftly  opened  the  door  behind  him  and  left 
them  wondering. 

Perhaps,  thought  Mr.  Odell,  Celia  might  have 
the  clew  to  it  all.  He  would  have  liked  to  de- 
scribe  the  scene  to  her,  but  he  remembered  how 
much  she  had  borne  and  how  bravely,  and  seeing 
the  alarm  that  gathered  in  her  face  as  he  hesi- 
tated over  her  question,  he  spoke,  at  last,  quickly. 

"  Oh,  he's  all  right.  He's  had  to  swim  for  it, 
and  he  was  cold  and  pretty  well  fagged  out,  but 
it  would  take  more  than  that  to  hurt  him.  He's 
gone  on  the  bridge  now,  I  suppose,  but  no  doubt 
he'll  turn  in  as  soon  as  we're  past  the  blockade. 
And  I'd  advise  you  to  do  the  same,  my  dear,"  he 
concluded.  "  You've  nothing  more  to  trouble 
your  head  about  at  all." 


THE   AWAKENING  305 

The  channel  from  Smithville  to  the  open  sea 
is  bent  in  a  great  double  curve,  like  the  letter  S. 
The  upper  arc  ends  at  Fort  Caswell.  From  that 
point  one  bore  southeast  for  Bald-head ;  then, 
sweeping  round  the  reverse  curve,  steamed  south- 
westerly out  to  sea.  Slowly  the  Caroline  crept 
along,  leaving  the  Fort  right  astern  ;  slowly  she 
swung  round  the  curve  under  the  feet  of  the 
headland ;  slowly,  taking  her  bearings  from  the 
dim  range  lights  shown  for  her  on  Smith's 
Island,  she  began  moving  out  towards  the  cruis- 
ers. Slowly  at  first,  but  at  a  movement  of  the 
pilot's  hand  on  the  signal  lever  and  the  clank  of 
a  muffled  bell  in  the  engine-room,  faster,  faster, 
faster  still,  until  she  was  flying  along  like  a  torn 
gray  scud  of  cloud  across  a  black  sky,  like  it, 
silent,  like  it,  all  but  invisible. 

However  charged  with  incident  or  even  with 
peril  a  deed  may  be,  it  cannot  continue  to  be 
exciting  after  it  has  become  part  of  a  routine. 
Blockade-running  was  no  longer  an  adventure ; 
it  was  a  trade,  and  men  followed  it  as  such, 
just  as  fire-fighters,  or  coast-guards,  or  miners  — 
or,  for  that  matter,  linen-drapers  —  follow  their 
trade.  To  be  wary,  bold,  alert,  was  just  as 
necessary  as  ever,  but  it  was  now  habitual. 
The  nervous  tension  may  have  been  as  great 
as  ever,  but  it  was  unconscious.  There  was  no 
longer  any  holding  of  the  breath  as  the  Caroline 


306  TRAITOR   AND  LOYALIST 

drew  up  for  her  spring,  any  thought,  for  the 
moment,  of  the  chance  of  failure  or  the  conse- 
quences of  it. 

It  was  this  confidence  which  prevented  Mr. 
White  or  the  pilot  from  objecting  to  Martin's 
presence  on  the  bridge,  for  it  lent  the  possibility 
of  a  divided  authority  at  a  moment  when  such 
a  thing  might  prove  disastrous.  And  indeed, 
while  the  little  craft  was  stealing  along  toward 
the  argus-eyed  peril  which  was  always  ready, 
never  asleep,  both  men  more  than  once  with- 
drew their  eyes  from  the  friendly  dark  ahead  to 
cast  an  uneasy  glance  at  their  captain. 

But  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  where  he 
was,  who  he  was.  He  stood  by  the  starboard 
rail,  motionless.  Even  when  the  pilot,  with  a 
touch  on  his  companion's  arm,  pointed  out  the 
blurred  mass  of  a  cruiser  to  starboard  and  a 
little  ahead,  he  did  not  look  at  it,  nor  did  his 
gaze  follow  theirs  to  port  to  find  its  next  neigh- 
bor. He  was  looking  out  northwest,  toward 
the  spot  where  the  last  cruiser  in  the  line  was 
keeping  guard  off  the  Oak  Island  shore,  to  the 
spot  toward  which  the  little  army  of  men  in 
boats,  with  muffled  oars,  was  drawing  up  to  the 
a  utacxv. 

Gray  and  silent  as  the  scudding  clouds  which 
raced  across  the  sky,  the  Caroline  flew  along 
toward    the   middle    of    the    gap    between    the 


THE   AWAKENING  307 

cruisers.  Now  they  were  abreast,  now  —  now 
falling  fast  astern,  and  not  the  last,  but  the 
greatest,  peril  of  the  night  lay  behind.  The 
pilot's  whisper  "  So  far,"  and  Mr.  White's  shift- 
ing to  an  easier  position,  acknowledged  that  it 
was  past  and  that  it  had  been  a  peril. 

Slight  as  it  was,  it  was  enough  to  wake  Mar- 
tin Carver  from  his  dream.  He  wheeled  sud- 
denly and  faced  them,  gripping  Mr.  White's  arm 
so  tightly  that  he  winced.  They  could  see  his 
face  working  in  some  strange  excitement. 

"  They're  waiting  for  it  to  get  darker,"  he 
whispered.  "  There's  time  yet.  Slow  down. 
Mr.  White,  have  them  lower  away  my  gig. 
Quick,  man !  There's  time  yet,  I  tell  you. 
I'm  going  to  —  " 

But  as  they  stared  at  him  stupidly,  think- 
ing him  mad,  there  came  across-  the  water  a 
single  musket  shot.  It  was  too  late.  He 
wrenched  free  from  their  arms,  for  they  had 
tried  to  hold  him,  and  turned  back  toward  the 
spot  whence  the  sound  had  come.  The  rattle 
of  a  volley  followed  it,  and  another  and  another, 
and  the  hoarse,  wild  shout  of  cheering.  A 
tongue  of  flame  sprang  into  the  air,  and  in  a 
moment  the  blazing  vessel  was  lighting  up  the 
sea.  It  all  happened  with  the  speed  of  a  dream, 
while  the  Caroline  was  rushing  seaward. 

To  the  men  in  command  of  her  the  attack 


308  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

meant  little,  one  way  or  the  other,  but  the  mad- 
man on  the  bridge  meant  a  good  deal.  He  was 
very  quiet  again  now,  to  be  sure,  but  one  could 
not  guess  what  the  mood  of  the  next  instant 
might  be. 

But  suddenly  their  apprehensions  about  him 
were  swallowed  up  by  another  peril  which  was 
rushing  right  down  upon  them.  A  cruiser  of 
the  outer  patrol,  flying  as  fast  as  her  roaring 
furnaces  could  drive  her  to  the  aid  of  her  stricken 
comrade,  was  headed  right  athwart  the  Ca/ro- 
line^s  bows.  They  on  her  bridge  had  not  yet 
made  out  the  runner  at  all.  Both  White  and 
the  pilot  could  see  that  as  they  held  the  Caroline 
would  almost  get  clear  under  her  bows,  —  al- 
most, but  not  quite.  The  chances  were  that  the 
cruiser  would  come  crashing  into  her  somewhere 
abaft  her  port  paddle. 

There  were  two  courses  open.  One  was  to 
turn  the  Caroline's  head  a  little  to  port,  and  so 
ram  the  cruiser  instead  of  being  rammed,  but 
the  chance  of  getting  clear  and  getting  off  after- 
wards was  desperate.  There  was  another  way, 
and  the  pilot  took  it. 

"  Steady,"  he  yelled  down  to  the  man  at  the 
wheel.  "  Keep  her  as  she  is."  In  the  same 
instant  he  pulled  a  cord,  and  the  knife-blast 
of  the  Caroline's  whistle  cut  the  air. 

Instinctively    the    cruiser    obeyed    the   signal, 


THE   AWAKENING  309 

put  her  helm  hard  over  to  port,  and  reversed 
her  engines.  There  w^as  just  room.  The 
cruiser's  stem  grazed  the  Caroline's  counter, 
but  that  was  all. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  demanded  her  com- 
mander. Then,  with  quick  suspicion,  "What 
ship  is  that  ?  " 

"There's  a  runner  getting  out,"  yelled  Mr. 
White.  <'  Didn't  you  see  him.  He  just  crossed 
your  bows." 

The  Ca/roline's  way  had  not  been  checked  for 
an  instant,  and  she  was  out  of  sight  in  the  dark 
again  almost  before  he  had  got  the  words  out. 

The  pilot  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  sleeve. 
"  That  was  close  enough,"  he  said. 

Then  they  turned  their  attention  to  Martin. 
He  was  still  standing  as  they  had  seen  him  be- 
fore, gazing  out  toward  the  dying  blaze  off  the 
Oak  Island  shore. 

They  sent  for  the  steward,  and  he  and  another 
man  led  him  away.  He  suffered  it  like  a  child, 
uttering  no  word  at  all.  But  when  they  entered 
the  saloon  he  said  to  the  steward :  "  There's  a 
passenger  in  my  cabin.  We  took  one  on  at 
Smithville." 

"  Yes,  yes.  Captain.  That's  all  right.  I  know 
all  about  it.     Don't  you  worry  about  it." 

Martin  roused  himself  with  an  effort.  He 
spoke    in  something  like  his  old    tone  of   crisp 


310  TRAITOR   AND    LOYALIST 

command.  "  Do  you  remember  what  I  told  you 
three  days  ago  ?  You  were  to  see  things  you 
didn't  understand,  and  to  obey  orders.  There's 
a  passenger  in  my  cabin.  I'm  going  to  stay  here. 
You  needn't  wait." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  steward. 

Celia  had  followed  Mr.  Odell's  advice  only  to 
the  extent  of  going  back  to  her  cabin  and  lying 
down,  fully  dressed,  on  the  bed  beside  her 
mother.  She  acknowledged  to  herself  quite 
simply  that  she  was  waiting  for  Martin,  waiting 
to  hear  him  step  in  the  saloon  outside  the  door. 
Mr.  Odell  had  said  that  there  was  nothing  more 
for  her  to  worry  about,  and  it  was  quite  true. 
The  ordeal  was  over  and  they  were  all  safe. 
Her  mother  was  asleep,  and  it  seemed  unlikely 
that  she,  more  than  Winthrop,  would  long  be 
the  worse  for  the  day's  experiences.  And  Mar- 
tin was  on  the  bridge. 

She  drew  a  contented  little  sigh.  The  future 
was  veiled,  uncertain,  but  it  was  as  though 
shrouded  in  the  friendly  mist  of  an  early  October 
morning,  which  is  nothing  but  the  promise  of  a 
clear  day.  She  and  her  mother  would  find  a 
cottage  at  Nassau,  —  there  was  money  enough 
for  that,  she  reckoned,  —  where  they  could  live 
quietly  till  the  war  was  over.  Winthrop  would 
go  back  North,  and  Martin  — 


THE   AWAKENING  311 

The  thought  spra-ng  up  suddenly  in  her  mind, 
sprang  into  words  which  she  whispered  to  her- 
self ere  she  knew  what  she  was  saying,  that 
Martin  would  still  be  a  traitor.  All  his  steady 
courage,  all  his  unquestioning  loyalty,  as  he  un- 
derstood loyalty,  though  they  had  made  her  for- 
get, could  not  alter  the  fact.  He  had  gone  back 
to  the  bridge.     He  was  still  a  traitor. 

She  denied  it  fiercely.  What  had  she  herself 
said  to  Harper  ?  It  was  not  men's  opinions  that 
made  them  honest  or  mean.  He  did  not  see 
something  as  she  saw  it,  rather  he  did  not  see  it 
at  all.  Was  it  not  enough  if  he  lived  honestly 
by  what  he  did  see  ?  "  Trading  in  his  country's 
necessity."  That  had  been  Winthrop's  hot  sen- 
tence, and  she  knew  she  had  assented  to  it.  But 
who  were  they  to  sit  in  judgment  ? 

Profoundly  as  this  train  of  thought  occupied 
her  —  and  she  was  so  deep  in  it  that  the  scream 
of  the  Caroline's  whistle  had  suggested  no  alarm 
at  all,  had  hardly  startled  her  nerves  —  still  noth- 
ing but  her  mind  was  engaged  with  it.  She 
discussed  it  with  herself  as  though  it  had  in- 
volved nothing  but  itself,  as  though  from  it  hung 
no  corollaries.  It  was  not  until  she  heard  Mar- 
tin's voice  as  he  spoke  to  the  steward,  outside 
her  door,  that  the  question  suddenly  gripped  her 
heart,  that  she  shuddered  and  asked  herself  what 
she  should  do. 


312  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

She  sat  up  swiftly,  and  put  to  rights  her  dis- 
ordered hair.  He  was  waiting  for  her,  and  she 
was  going  out  to  him.  What  if  he  were  a 
traitor  ?  She  loved  him.  She  would  have  loved 
him  had  his  treason  been  twenty  times  deeper 
dyed.  She  must  hate  the  thing  he  did,  she  must 
suffer  for  it,  always  perhaps.  Even  then,  did 
not  she  love  him  enough  to  suffer  ? 

But  it  was  not  so  simple  as  that.  He  knew 
she  loved  him.  He  had  known,  she  was  sure, 
when  they  had  talked  together,  up  under  the 
rafters  of  the  little  house  in  Wilmington.  And 
he  had  not  asked  her  to  acknowledge  it,  had  not 
asked  the  reward  love  gives.  The  thing  that 
stood  between  them  must  be  taken  away  first. 
He  had  asked  her  what  it  was. 

And  now  that  he  had  brought  them  safely  out 
of  danger,  now  that  they  had  "  a  I'ight  to  them- 
selves" once  more,  he  would  ask  again.  And 
what  was  she  to  do  ? 

She  could  not  tell  him ;  she  could  not  put  a 
price  on  his  loyalty  to  his  country  which  would 
stain  it  if  ever  it  should  awake.  And  was  her 
love  for  him  selfish  enough,  mean  enough,  to  let 
her  lie  to  him  ?  To  let  her  look  into  his  steady 
eyes  and  say  the  barrier  was  gone,  utterly,  for- 
ever ?  What  was  left  ?  To  meet  him,  as  before, 
denying.     That  was  all. 

"Not   to-night,  not  to-night,"  she  whispered. 


THE  AWAKENING  313 

But  could  to-morrow  make  a  difference  ?  She 
was  not  a  coward.  She  rose  and  went  out  into 
the  dim  room  where  the  slow  patrol  of  his  steps 
had  told  her  he  was  waiting.  With  an  un worded 
prayer  in  her  heart  she  looked  up  at  him. 

But  at  the  sight  of  his  gray  face,  the  prayer, 
the  resolution,  the  whole  web  of  doubt  that  had 
wrapped  around  her,  was  swept  away  in  a  wave 
of  fear  and  wonder. 

He  hardly  met  her  look  at  all,  only  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  he  turned  away  from  it  suddenly, 
as  one  shrinks  back  from  something  that  hurts. 
What  he  said  was  the  very  words  that  had  been 
upon  her  own  lips  but  a  moment  before.  "  Not 
to-night,  not  to-night." 

She  was  beside  him  in  an  instant,  but  under 
the  touch  of  her  hands  he  winced  and  drew  back. 
She  had  often  thought  his  mind  and  body  like 
some  great  engine,  so  perfect  was  the  discipline 
in  which  he  held  them,  but  now  he  paced  the 
shabby  saloon  more  like  a  great  caged  bear,  his 
big,  unwieldy  body  swaying  as  he  went.  Per- 
plexed, frightened,  as  she  was,  she  was  still  too 
wise  to  attempt  to  check  the  tempest  then  in 
its  full  strength.  But  when  at  last  she  saw 
him  make  an  effort  at  self-control,  she  spoke 
to  him. 

"Can't  you  tell  me  what  it  means?"  she 
asked. 


314  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  full  minute.  Then 
he  turned  upon  her  abruptly. 

"  I'm  a  traitor,"  he  said.  "  You've  known  it 
all  winter.  I  know  it  now.  I'm  the  kind  of 
traitor  you  must  have  despised  as  much  as  Win- 
throp.  Why  are  you  and  he  willing  to  speak  to 
me,  or  to  touch  me  ?  Why  would  he  shake  hands 
with  me  this  afternoon  ?  Why  did  you  — " 
But  even  he  could  see  the  change  that  had  come 
in  her  face,  the  prayer  of  thanksgiving  that  had 
sprung  into  her  eyes,  and  his  voice  which  had 
begun  bitterly  grew  soft  and  faltered. 

And  her  answer  was  to  come  to  him  again,  to 
come  close,  closer,  to  clasp  her  hands  behind  his 
head  and  draw  it  down.  "  It  has  come  right  at 
last,"  she  said.     "  I  knew  it  would  come  right." 

He  did  not  shrink  now  from  her  caressing 
hands.     His  own  were  in  her  brown  hair. 

So  for  a  while,  but  then  quickly  he  unclasped 
them. 

"No,"  he  said,  "no,  not  that.  Why  did  you 
tempt  me  ?  I  know.  Because  you  love  me.  And 
for  to-night  you've  forgotten  that  you  despise 
me,  too.  But  you'll  remember  again.  You  could 
never  forget  it.  You'd  be  ashamed."  He  let  fall 
her  hands. 

«  Never  ashamed  after  to-day,"  she  said.  «  Even 
if  you  had  never  known  —  what  you  know  now, 
even  if  you'd  gone  back  —  I'd  have  broken  my 


THE  AWAKENING  315 

heart,  perhaps,  but  I  wouldn't  have  been  ashamed 
Not  after  to-day  and  all  these  last  days." 

"  To-day,"  he  repeated  dully.  "  These  last 
days."  Then,  as  he  guessed  part  of  her  meaning  : 
"  What  difference  can  they  make  ?  What  differ- 
ence can  anything  make  ?  It  can't  alter  what  I 
am." 

Another  wave  of  the  storm  seemed  about  to 
break  over  him,  and  she  spoke  quickly. 

"  Martin,"  she  said,  "  won't  you  let  me  help 
you  ?  Won't  you  sit  down  here  and  talk  about 
it  with  me  quietly  ?  I've  been  over  it  all  so 
many,  many  times,  and  now  I  think  I  understand. 
I  know  I  can  help.     Come." 

He  obeyed  and  sat  down  at  a  table,  opposite 
the  chair  she  had  taken  for  herself,  his  locked 
hands  thrust  out  before  him.  She  found 
when  she  tried  to  begin  that  her  lips  were 
trembling. 

"  When  you  first  did  it,"  she  said,  "  I  felt  as 
though  that  one  thing  stained  everything  else.  I 
thought  you  couldn't  be  anything  else  but  that, 
—  I  thought  you  couldn't  have  done  it  unless 
you  were  afraid,  and  disloyal  to  everything,  and 
mean.  I  knew  that  couldn't  be  true  if  you 
were  —  you.  It  seemed  as  if  you  must  have 
changed.  You  remember  the  night  you  took  us 
through  the  blockade  ?  Well,  it  comforted  me  a 
little  to  see  how  brave  you  were,  to  know  that 


316  TRAITOR   AND   LOYALIST 

it  hadn't  made  you  a  coward.  And  then,  when 
Winthrop  came,  and  I  saw  what  you  did  to  help 
him  —  " 

"  What  would  you  have  had  me  do  ?  Give 
him  up  ?  " 

"That's  it,"  she  cried.  "That's  it,  just  ex- 
actly. If  you'd  thought  there  was  any  credit 
in  risking  your  life  for  him,  if  you'd  thought 
that  there  was  anything  else  you  could  possibly 
have  done  —  but  you  didn't,  not  once.  And 
after  that  I  wasn't  ashamed.  And  I  knew  that 
you  were  nothing  else  that  w^as  bad,  except  a 
traitor,  and  that  you  were  that  just  because  you 
didn't  see.  Martin,  I  think  I  know  why  you 
didn't  see.  You've  never  had  any  country  at 
all.  All  the  country  you  had  was  your  father's 
fleet.  And  you  were  loyal  to  that.  But  you 
have  a  country  now !  You've  found  your  coun- 
try, and  it  isn't  too  late." 

"  No,  I  thank  God  for  that."  He  sat  there, 
locking  and  unlocking  his  hands.  "  I'm  going 
North,"  he  went  on  simply.  "  I'm  going  to 
Washington,  to  tell  them  what  I've  done  and 
ask  them  to  let  me  enlist  and  try  to  pay." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence ;  then  suddenly 
he  demanded :  "  But  how  can  I  pay  ?  What 
can  I  do  more  than  so  many  others  are  doing, 
who  haven't  any  debt  ?  " 

"None  of  us  can  pay  —  that  way,"  she  an- 


THE  AWAKENING  317 

swered  gravely.  "  We  have  to  ask  to  have  our 
debts  forgiven  us." 

They  fell  silent  for  a  while  after  that,  but  it 
was  a  silence  big  with  meaning  for  both  of  them. 
"  And  when  I  have  paid  as  well  as  I  can,"  he 
said  at  last.     "  After  I  have  paid,  Celia  —  " 

He  did  not  finish.  The  word  "  after  "  brought 
the  same  thought  to  both  of  them.  He  saw  her 
pale  a  little.     His  own  breath  came  quick. 

"  Before  ? "  he  demanded.  "  Can  it  be  be- 
fore ?  There'll  be  a  steamer  in  a  week  to  take 
me  North  —  but  those  days  ?  Can't  I  have 
them  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  want  it  to  be  that  way. 
It  must  be  that  way.  And  then  I'll  let  you  go 
—  to  pay  it  as  well  as  you  can.  Oh,  are  you 
sure  there'll  be  a  week  ? " 

There  passed  no  caress  between  them ;  they 
sat  as  they  had  before,  leaning  forward  over  the 
table,  and  talked  of  the  past,  and  planned  their 
little  future ;  how  they  would  be  married  in  the 
church  under  the  silk  cotton  trees,  how  they 
would  pass  the  days  —  as  if  each  had  been  a 
year  —  before  he  was  to  go. 

How  long  they  sat  there  they  did  not  know, 
but  it  was  dawn  before  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
brightening  windows  :  "  I  must  go.  Mother  will 
be  waking  presently." 

They  both  rose,  and  she,  about  to  leave  him, 


318  TRAITOR  AND   LOYALIST 

hesitated.  Then,  a  wave  of  color  sweeping 
over  her  face,  she  held  it  up  for  him  to  kiss. 

His  own  went  crimson.  He  took  her  in  his 
great  hands. 

"  Have  I  any  right  to  be  happy  ? "  he  de- 
manded. 

"You've  a  right  to  make  me  happy."  That, 
and  the  kiss,  were  her  answer. 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

WINSTON  CHURCHILL 

Skillful  in  plot,    dramatic  in    episode,    powerful  and  original  in  climax. 

MR.  CREWELS  CAREER.  Illus.  by  A.I.  Keller  and  Kinneys. 

A  New  England  state  is  under  the  political  domination 
of  a  railway  and  Mr.  Crewe,  a  millionaire,  seizes  the  moment 
when  the  cause  of  the  people  against  corporation  greed  is 
being  espoused  by  an  ardent  young  attorney,  to  further  his 
own  interest  in  a  political  way,  by  taking  up  this  cause. 

The  daughter  of  the  railway  president,  with  the  sunny 
humor  and  shrewd  common  sense  of  the  New  England  girl, 
plays  no  small  part  in  the  situation  as  well  as  in  the  life  of  the 
young  attorney  who  stands  so  unflinchingly  for  clean  politics. 

THE  CROSSING.     Illus.  by  S.  Adamson  and  L.  Baylis. 

Describing  the  battle  of  Fort  Moultrie  and  the  British 
fleet  in  the  harbor  of  Charleston,  the  blazing  of  the  Kentucky 
wilderness,  the  expedition  of  Clark  and  his  handful  of  daunt- 
less followers  in  Illinois,  the  beginning  of  civilization  along 
the  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  and  the  treasonable  schemes  builded 
against  Washington  and  the  Federal  Government. 

CONISTON.     Illustrated  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

A  deft  blending  of  love  and  politics  distinguishes  this 
book.  The  author  has  taken  for  his  hero  a  New  Englander, 
a  crude  man  of  the  tannery,  who  rose  to  political  prominence 
by  his  own  powers,  and  then  surrendered  all  for  the  love  of  a 
woman. 

It  is  a  sermon  on  civic  righteousness,  and  a  love  story  of  a 
deep  motive. 

THE  CELEBRITY.    An  Episode. 

An  inimitable  bit  of  comedy  describing  an  interchange  of 
personalities  between  a  celebrated  author  and  a  bicycle  sales- 
man of  the  most  blatant  type.  The  story  is  adorned  with 
some  character  sketches  more  living  than  pen  work.  It  is  the 
purest,  keenest  fun — no  such  piece  of  humor  has  appeared  for 
years :  it  is  American  to  the  core. 

THE    CRISIS.     Illus.  by  Howard  Chaxidler  Christy. 

A  book  that  presents  the  great  crisis  in  our  national  life 
with  splendid  power  and  with  a  sympathy,  a  sincerity,  and  a 
patriotism  that  are  inspiring.  The  several  scenes  in  the  book 
in  which  Abraham  Lincoln  figures  must  be  read  in  their  en- 
tirety for  they  give  a  picture  of  that  great,  magnetic,  lovable 
man,  which  has  been  drawn  with  evident  affection  and  excep- 
tional success. 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

GEORGE  BARR  McCUTCHEON 

-  -  ...  _ 

GRAUSTARK. 

A  story  of  love  behind  a  throne,  telling  how  a  young 
American  met  a  lovely  girl  and  followed  her  to  a  new  and 
strange  country.     A  thrilling,  dashing  narrative. 

BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK. 

Beverly  is  a  bewitching  American  girl  who  has  gone  to 
that  stirring  little  principality — Graustark — to  visit  her  friend 
the  princess,  and  there  has  a  romantic  affair  of  her  own. 

BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS. 

A  young  man  is  required  to  spend  one  million  dollars  in 
one  year  in  order  to  inherit  seven.  How  he  does  it  forms  the 
basis  of  a  lively  story. 

CASTLE  CRANEYCROW. 

The  story  revolves  round  the  abduction  of  a  young  Amer- 
ican woman,  her  imprisonment  in  an  old  castle  and  the  adven- 
tures created  through  her  rescue. 

COWARDICE  COURT. 

An  amusing  social  feud  in  the  Adirondacks  in  which  an 
English  girl  is  tempted  into  being  a  traitor  by  a  romantic 
young  American,  forms  the  plot. 

THE  DAUGHTER  OF  ANDERSON  CROW. 

The  story  centers  about  the  adopted  daughter  of  the  town 
mnrshal  in  a  western  village.  Her  parentage  is  shrouded  in 
mystery,  and  the  story  concerns  the  secret  that  deviously 
works  to  the  surface. 

THE  MAN  FROM  BRODNEY'S. 

The  hero  meets  a  princess  in  a  far-away  island  among 
fanatically  hostile  Musselmen.  Romantic  love  making  amid 
amusing  situations  and  exciting  adventures. 

NEDRA. 

A  young  couple  elope  from  Chicage  to  go  to  London 
traveling  as  brother  and  sister.  They  are  shipwrecked  and  a 
strange  mix-up  occurs  on  account  of  it. 

THE  SHERRODS. 

The  scene  is  the  Middle  West  and  centers  around  a  man 
who  leads  a  double  life.    A  most  enthralling  novel. 

TRUXTON  KING. 

A  handsome  good  natured  young  fellow  ranges  on  the 
earth  looking  for  romantic  adventures  and  is  finally  enmeshed 
in  most  complicated  intrigues  in  Graustark. 

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A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 

Great  Books  at  Little  Prices 

HAPPY  HAWKINS.  By  Robert  Alexander  Wason.  lUus- 
trated  by  Howard  Giles. 

A  ranch  and  cowboy  novel.  Happy  Hawkins  tells  his  own  story 
with  such  a  fine  capacity  for  knowing  how  to  do  it  and  with  so  much 
humor  that  the  reader's  interest  is  held  in  surprise,  then  admiration 
and  at  last  in  positive  affection. 

COMRADES.  By  Thomas  Dixon,  Jr.  Illustrated  by  C.  D. 
Williams. 

The  locale  of  this  story  is  in  California,  where  a  few  socialists 
establish  a  little  community. 

The  author  leads  the  little  band  along  the  path  of  disillusion- 
ment, and  gives  some  brilliant  flashes  of  light  on  one  side  of  an 
important  question. 

TONO-BUNGAY.    By  Herbert  George  Wells. 

The  hero  of  this  novel  is  a  young  man  who,  through  hard  work, 
earns  a  scholarship  and  goes  to  London. 

Written  with  a  frankness  verging  on  Rousseau's,  Mr.  Wells  still 
uses  rare  discrimination  and  the  border  line  of  propriety  is  never 
crossed.  An  entertaining  book  with  both  a  story  and  a  moral,  and 
without  a  dull  page— Mr.  Wells's  most  notable  achievement./^ 

A  HUSBAND  BY  PROXY.    By  Jack  Steele.  .       1--^ 

A  young  criminologist,  but  recently  arrived  in  New  York  city, 
is  drawn  into  a  mystery,  partly  through  financial  need  and  partly 
through  his  interest  in  a  beautiful  woman,  who  seems  at  times  the 
simplest  child  and  again  a  perfect  mistress  of  intrigue,  A  baffling 
detective  story. 

LIKE  ANOTHER  HELEN.  By  George  Horton.  Illus- 
trated by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

Mr.  Horton's  powerful  romance  stands  in  a  new  field  and  brings 
an  almost  unknown  world  in  reality  before  the  reader — the  world 
of  conflict  between  Greek  and  Turk  on  the  Island  of  Crete.  The 
*'  Helen  "  of  the  story  is  a  Greek,  beautiful,  desolate,  defiant — ^pure 
as  snow. 

There  is  a  certain  new  force  about  the  story,  a  kind  of  master- 
craftsmanship  and  mental  dominance  that  holds  the  reader. 

THE  MASTER  OF  APPLEBY.  By  Francis  Lynde. 
Illustrated  by  T.  de  Thulstrup. 

"A  novel  tale  concerning  itself  in  part  with  the  great  struggle  in 
the  two  Carolinas,  but  chiefly  with  the  adventures  therein  of  two 
gentlemen  who  loved  one  and  the  same  lady. 

A  strong,  masculine  and  persuasive  story. 

A  MODERN  MADONNA.    By  Caroline  Abbot  Stanley. 
A  story  of  American  life,  founded  on  facts  as  they  existed  some 

J  rears  ago  in  the  District  of  Columbia.    The  theme  is  the  maternal 
ove  and  splendid  courage  of  a  woman. 

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A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 

Great  Books  at  Little  Prices 

WHEN  A  MAN  MARRIES.  By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart. 
Illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher  and  Mayo  Bunker. 

A  young  artist,  whose  wife  had  recently  divorced  him,  finds  that 
a  visit  is  due  from  his  Aunt  Selina,  an  elderly  lady  having  ideas 
about  things  quite  apart  from  the  Bohemian  set  in  which  her 
nephew  is  a  shining  light.  The  way  in  which  matters  are  tempo- 
rarily adjusted  forms  the  motif  of  the  story. 

A  farcical  extravaganza,  dramatized  under  the  title  of  "Seven  Days" 

THE  FASHIONABLE  ADVENTURES  OF  JOSHUA 
CRAIG.  By  David  Graham  Phillips.  Illustrated. 
A  young  westerner,  uncouth  and  unconventional,  appears  in 
political  and  social  life  in  Washington.  He  attains  power  in  poli- 
tics, and  a  young  woman  of  the  exclusive  set  becomes  his  wife,  un- 
dertaking his  education  in  social  amenities. 

"DOC."  GORDON.  By  Mary  E.  Wilkins-Freeman.  Illus- 
trated by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
Against  the  familiar  background  of  American  town  life,  the 
author  portrays  a  group  of  people  strangely  involved  in  a  mystery. 
"Doc.  Gordon,  the  one  physician  of  the  place.  Dr.  Elliot,  his 
assistant,  a  beautiful  woman  and  her  altogether  charming  daughter 
are  all  involved  in  the  plot.     A  novel  of  great  interest. 

HOLY  ORDERS.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

A  dramatic  story,  in  which  is  pictured  a  clergyman  in  touch  with 
society  people,  stage  favorites,  simple  village  folk,  powerful  finan- 
ciers and  others,  each  presenting  vital  problems  to  this  man  "in 
holy  orders" — problems  that  we  are  now  struggling  with  in  America. 

KATRINE.    By  Elinor  Macartney  Lane.   With  frontispiece. 

Katrine,  the  heroine  of  this  story,  is  a  lovely  Irish  girl,  of  lowly 
birth,  but  gifted  with  a  beautiful  voice. 

The  narrative  is  based  on  the  facts  of  an  actual  singer's  career, 
and  the  viewpoint  throughout  is  a  most  exalted  one. 

THE   FORTUNES    OF  FIFI.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seawall. 
Illustrated  by  T.  de  Thulstrup. 
A  story  of  life  in  France  at  the  time  of  the  first  Napoleon.    Fifi, 
a  glad,  mad  little  actress  of  eighteen,  is  the  star  performer  in  a  third 
rate  Parisian  theatre.    A  story  as  dainty  as  a  Watteau  painting. 

SHE  THAT  HESITATES.  By  Harris  Dickson.  Illus- 
trated by  C.  W.  Relyea. 

The  scene  of  this  dashmg  romance  shifts  from  Dresden  to  St. 
Petersburg  in  the  reign  of  Peter  the  Great,  and  then  to  New  Orleans. 

The  hero  is  a  French  Soldier  of  Fortune,  and  the  princess,  who 
hesitates — but  you  must  read  the  story  to  know  how  she  that  hesitates 
may  be  lost  and  yet  saved. 

- 

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